.MHRSH 


BY 
SKRKH 

JtW't-,TT 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


•Boofcfi  by  ffHee  3f etot tt. 


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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND  COMPANY, 
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A   MARSH    ISLAND 


BY 


SARAH   ORNE  JEWETT 


KLEVENTH    EDITION 


BOSTON  AND    NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

(ffife  OrtJcwiOi?  Press,  £ambri&0e 


Copyright,  1886, 
BY  SARAH   ORNE  JEWETT. 

All  rights  reserved. 


7*<  Kii'trsiiir  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  II.  O.  Ilougbton  &  Company. 


PS 

C* 


A  MAESH  ISLAND. 


ONE  August  afternoon   the  people  who 

r  ^  drove  along  the  east  road  of  a  pleasant  Sus- 

~*  sex  County  town  were  much  interested  in 

:^  the  appearance  of  a  young  man  who  was 

hard  at  work  before  a  slender  easel  near 

the  wayside.     Most  of  the  spectators  felt  a 

^  strong  desire  to -linger ;  if  any  had  happened 

i  to  be  afoot  they  would  surely  have  looked 

3  over  the  artist's  shoulder;    as  it  was,  they 

^  inspected  with   some   contempt   the   bit   of 

^  scenery  which  was  honored  with  so  much  at- 

^  tention.     This  was  in  no  way  remarkable. 

'b  They  saw  a  familiar  row  of  willows  and  a 

foreground  of  pasture,  broken  here  and  there 

by  gray  rocks,  while  beyond  a  tide  river  the 

marshes  seemed  to  stretch  away  to  the  end 

of  the  world. 

Almost  everybody  who  drove  along  would 
have  confidently  directed  the  stranger  to  a 


28S7G9 


4  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

better  specimen  of  the  natural  beauties  of 
the  town,  yet  he  seemed  unsuspicious  of  his 
mistake,  and  painted  busily.  Sometimes  he 
strolled  away,  apparently  taking  aimless 
steps,  but  always  keeping  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  landscape,  while  once  he  flung 
himself  impatiently  at  full  length  on  the 
soft  grass,  in  the  shade  of  the  nearest  tree. 
One  would  have  said  that  such  enthusiastic 
interest  in  his  pursuit  was  exceptional  rather 
than  common  with  him  ;  but  he  presently 
took  a  new  view  of  his  subject  from  this 
point,  and  after  some  reflection  rose  and 
went  nearer  to  a  slender  birch-tree  which 
stood  in  his  left  foreground.  There  was  a 
touch  of  uncommon  color  on  some  of  its 
leaves,  which  had  been  changed  early,  and 
he  held  the  twig  in  his  hand,  rustled  it,  and 
looked  up  at  the  topmost  branches,  which 
seemed  all  a-shiver  at  this  strange  attention. 
The  light  breeze  passed  over ;  the  young  tree 
was  still  again.  A  boy  might  have  bent  it, 
and  cut  and  trimmed  it  with  his  jack-knife, 
for  an  afternoon's  fishing,  and  the  artist 
reached  out  and  for  a  moment  held  the 
stem,  which  had  lately  put  on  its  first  white 
dress;  then  he  let  it  spring  away  from  him. 
Trees  that  grow  alone  have  a  great  deal 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  5 

more  individuality  than  those  which  stand 
in  companies;  the  young  man  gave  another 
look  at  the  charming  outline  of  this  one,  and 
went  back  toward  his  easel.  As  he  turned 
he  was  suddenly  attracted  by  the  beauty  of 
the  landscape  which  had  been  behind  him  all 
the  afternoon.  The  moorland-like  hills  were 
beginning  to  grow  purple,  and  a  lovely  light 
had  gathered  into  the  country  which  lay  be- 
tween him  and  the  western  sky.  He  con- 
demned himself  for  having  been  so  easily 
suited  with  his  point  of  view,  and  felt  dis- 
satisfied and  displeased  for  the  moment  with 
his  day's  work. 

At  his  fe°t  grew  an  enticing  crop  of  mush- 
rooms, and  with  a  sigh  at  the  evasiveness  of 
Art  he  stooped  to  gather  the  little  harvest, 
and  filled  a  handkerchief  with  the  delicate 
pink  and  white  fungi ;  tossing  away  the  sun- 
burnt ones  of  yesterday's  growth,  and  biting 
two  or  three  of  the  smallest  buttons  with  a 
good  relish.  "  If  I  only  had  some  salt,  now ! " 
he  said  to  himself.  "I  wonder  what  time 
it  is ; "  then  he  looked  somewhat  eagerly 
along  the  road,  as  if  he  expected  a  compan- 
ion. 

Nobody  could  be  discovered.  It  was  some 
time  since  any  traveler  had  passed  that  way ; 


6  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

the  few  wagons  that  had  gone  to  market 
early  in  the  morning  had  long  since  re- 
turned, and  the  greater  part  of  the  men  and 
horses  were  busy  on  the  marshes,  —  for  this 
was  the  time  of  year  for  cutting  the  salt  hay. 
When  he  looked  at  his  sketch  again  it  made 
him  forget  his  other  thoughts,  and  holding 
his  brush  at  arm's  length,  and  again  step- 
ping to  and  fro  lightly,  he  put  in  some  nec- 
essary touches  with  most  delicate  intention 
and  pleasure.  "  Not  so  bad !  "  he  said  half 
aloud,  "  though  my  birch-tree  does  not  look 
as  if  she  could  flit  away  if  I  frightened  her, 
as  the  real  one  does." 

There  was  a  pervading  flavor  of  idleness 
and  of  pleasure  about  the  young  man's  in- 
dustry. The  olive-like  willows  and  the  birch- 
tree  and  the  shining  water  seemed  to  lend 
themselves  to  his  apparent  holiday-making. 
Not  a  great  distance  away,  the  mowers 
wished  it  were  still  nearer  sundown,  as  they 
went  slowly  back  and  forward  on  the  marsh. 
This  was  a  hot  day  for  out-of-door  work  ; 
the  scythes  could  not  be  kept  sharp  enough, 
and  the  sun  was  dazzling  everybody's  eyes 
as  it  went  down  in  the  west.  Even  the 
good-natured  jokes  of  some  workmen  could 
not  shame  away  the  frequent  grumbling  of 
others. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  7 

The  artist  could  sometimes  see  the  shine 
of  a  scythe,  and  hear  a  far-away  peal  of 
laughter  or  a  shout,  and  this  gave  him  a 
pleasant  sense  of  companionship.  He  would 
have  thought  it  was  the  charming  weather 
that  made  him  so  happy  and  his  work  so 
prosperous  if  he  had  thought  anything  at  all 
about  it.  He  was  too  well  used  to  good  for- 
tune to  make  any  special  note  of  this  day, 
being  endowed  with  a  disposition  which  is 
not  troubled  by  bad  weather  of  any  sort,  and 
only  waits,  bird  -  like  and  meditative,  to  fly 
forth  again  when  the  sun  is  out.  In  fact, 
while  the  serenity  of  his  personal  atmosphere 
possessed  a  certain  impenetrability  for  its 
enemies,  friends  could  share  it,  and  were  at- 
tracted by  the  cheerful  magnet  at  the  cen- 
tre. This  young  man  had  usually  found  his 
fellow  -  creatures  wonderfully  pleasant  and 
ready  to  further  his  projects.  He  was  called 
lucky,  and  sometimes  selfish,  by  those  who 
envied  him,  while  his  friends  insisted  that 
he  gave  them  pleasure  of  the  best  and  most 
unselfish  sort.  His  virtues  came  of  moral 
excellence,  no  doubt;  still,  the  mysterious 
electric  currents  are  at  the  root  of  our  likes 
and  dislikes.  His  nature  was  attractive, 
and  everywhere  admirers,  and  even  friends, 


8  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

flocked  to  the  standard  of  this  curly-haired 
and  cheerful  knight,  while  one  castle  gate 
after  another  opened  before  him  as  he  went 
his  way  through  life.  To  be  not  uncomfort- 
ably young,  to  be  boyishly  hungry  and  envi- 
ably enthusiastic,  to  find  the  world  interest- 
ing, and,  on  the  whole,  faithful  to  its  prom- 
ises, were  happy  conditions.  A  respectable 
gift  for  water-color  painting  and  an  admira- 
ble ambition  to  excel  in  the  use  of  oil  colors 
made  sufficient  business  responsibilities.  If 
sometimes  existence  seemed  to  lead  nowhere 
in  particular,  and  his  hopes  and  projects 
were  directed  toward  results  too  close  at 
hand,  it  was  because  our  hero  felt  an  impa- 
tience for  the  great  motive  power  of  his  life 
to  take  possession  of  him.  He  had  a  dim 
sense  of  his  best  self,  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of 
spiritual  companionship,  and  had  once  said 
that  he  believed  he  was  waiting  orders ;  con- 
fessing also  that  he  had  checked  himself  in 
various  indiscretions,  because  he  should  not 
like  to  carry  a  bad  record  to  his  noble  fu- 
ture. The  friend  who  listened  to  this,  be- 
ing an  older  man,  smiled  under  cover  of  the 
darkness,  and  called  Dick  Dale  a  girlish 
fellow,  but  a  good  one,  before  he  laughed 
aloud,  and  wished  him  good  fortune  in  a 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  9 

way  that  implied  there  was  really  no  such 
thing. 

Since  advancement  and  glory  are  the  re- 
ward of  one's  own  definite  effort,  young  Dale 
was  as  far  as  ever  from  possessing  them. 
He  was  apparently  unambitious,  but  his  life 
was  remarkably  free  from  reproach,  while 
he  was  often  proved  useful  and  always  agree- 
able by  his  next  neighbors.  His  smallest 
daily  duties  and  pleasures  were  considered 
with  increasing  zest  and  respectfulness.  So- 
ciety valued  him  and  instinctively  paid  him 
deference,  as  if  it  understood  how  sincerely 
he  respected  himself.  He  had  often  smiled 
when  his  fellows  achieved  early  distinction 
and  renown ;  if  he  had  been  poor,  some 
croakers  said,  he  would  have  made  his  mark, 
but  those  persons  who  knew  him  best  laughed 
at  the  idea  of  its  already  being  too  late. 

The  day's  work,  or  play,  whichever  it 
might  have  been,  was  finished,  and,  his  ex- 
citement having  fairly  burnt  itself  out,  the 
painter  looked  along  the  road  eagerly,  and 
began  to  put  his  brushes  and  colors  together 
for  transportation.  Then  he  went  to  the 
top  of  a  hillock  near  by,  hoping  to  get  a 
wider  view  of  the  vacant  road.  Afterward, 
resigning  himself  to  patience  and  looking 


10  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

hopelessly  at  his  stopped  watch,  he  sat  down 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  diligently  tried 
to  make  a  whistle  from  a  willow  twig ;  but 
the  autumn  bark  proved  disobligingly  dry, 
and  would  not  slip  nor  lend  itself  to  sweet 
sounds. 

The  scythes  had  all  disappeared  from  the 
distant  meadow.  It  seemed  at  last  as  if  our 
friend  were  left  sole  tenant  of  the  country, 
for  the  sun  was  almost  down,  and  the  shad- 
ows were  damp  and  chilly  as  they  gathered 
fast  in  the  low  ground.  He  tried  wistfully 
once  or  twice  to  see  if  a  friendly  haymaker 
could  not  be  summoned.  He  grew  more 
and  more  angry  with  the  boy  who  had  left 
him  there  late  in  the  morning,  with  orders 
to  come  for  him  again  at  four  o'clock.  It 
appeared  like  a  forsaken  neighborhood,  and 
Mr.  Dale  desperately  climbed  the  shattered 
fence,  and,  having  shouldered  his  artistic  be- 
longings as  best  he  might,  set  forth  with  a 
limping  gait  toward  the  only  house  in  sight. 
The  road  was  perfectly  level,  and  deep  in 
white  dust.  The  house  looked  a  good  way 
off;  perhaps  it  was  two  thirds  of  a  mile. 
The  whole  region  seemed  to  be  wild  or  re- 
claimed marsh  land,  except  this  farm,  which 
covered  a  hill  with  its  orchards  and  upland 
fields  and  pastures. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  11 

It  was  like  a  high,  fruitful  island  in  that 
sea  of  grass,  the  wayfarer  thought ;  the  salt 
inlets,  indeed,  surrounded  it,  though  in  some 
places  one  could  leap  the  narrow  ditches 
easily.  The  nearer  he  approached,  the  more 
picturesque  and  enticing  he  thought  the 
farm.  There  was  a  great  red  barn  well  set- 
tled in  the  hillside,  and  a  bluish-green  com- 
pany of  willows,  with  some  poplars  and  an 
elm  or  two,  were  clustered  about  the  hospi- 
table-looking dwelling.  Pleasantest  of  all, 
at  that  moment,  a  straight  plume  of  smoke 
was  going  up  from  one  of  the  chimneys, 
most  supper-li&e  in  its  suggestion. 


n. 


THE  warm  yellow  glow  of  the  sun  shone 
out  once  more  through  the  haze,  and  filled 
the  orchard  and  all  the  shaded  places  of  the 
Marsh  Island  with  a  flood  of  golden  light. 
The  apple-trees  and  the  willows  were  trans- 
figured for  a  few  minutes,  and  as  the  young 
man  saw  a  bright  reflection  on  the  window 
panes  of  the  house  he  felt  a  great  longing  to 
paint  the  scene  before  him,  and  seized  every 
possible  detail  of  it  with  his  delighted  eyes. 
It  did  not  seem  so  late,  now  that  the  sun 
was  out  again,  and  he  turned  once,  a  little 
reluctant,  to  look  down  the  road;  for  ho 
might  have  been  too  impatient  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  boy. 

The  slow  horse  and  rattling  wagon  were, 
happily,  not  approaching,  and  he  assured 
himself  that  his  only  resource  was  the  good- 
will of  the  farmhouse.  Perhaps  he  could 
find  shelter  there  for  the  night,  and  make 
another  sketch  in  the  morning.  There  was 
not  a  more  picturesque  bit  of  country  in 
America ! 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  13 

Mrs.  Owen,  the  mistress  of  this  thriving 
homestead,  came  to  stand  in  the  doorway 
just  at  that  moment,  being  influenced  by 
the  beauty  of  the  sunset,  yet  not  consciously 
recognizing  the  fact.  She  discovered  her 
husband,  who  had  left  the  marshes  earlier 
than  the  rest  of  the  mowers,  standing  still, 
half-way  across  the  dooryard. 

"  You  've  had  a  good  day's  work,  for  such 
an  old  gentleman,"  she  said,  with  affection- 
ate raillery.  "  What  are  you  a-watchin'  ?  I 
declare,  these  trees  have  so  overgrown  we 
might 's  well  live  in  the  woods."  But  she  no- 
ticed with  considerable  curiosity  the  pleased 
way  in  which  the  gray-haired  farmer  looked 
up  through  the  topmost  willow  boughs  to 
see  the  sunlight  fade  and  disappear. 

"  'T  was  pretty,  was  n't  it  ?  "  he  answered. 
"  I  think  the  old  place  never  looks  so  well 
as  it  does  in  one  of  these  yaller,  fallish  sun- 
downs." 

"  I  thought  it  seemed  clouded  over  a  while 
ago,"  remarked  the  wife,  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  "  but  the  sun  must  have  burnt  it 
off.  I  think  likely  you  '11  have  another  good 
hay-day  to-morrow,"  and  she  took  a  shrewd 
look  at  the  heavens  wherever  they  were  visi- 
ble from  the  doorstep,  and  finally  came  for- 


14  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

ward,  past  the  corner  of  the  house,  in  order 
to  get  a  fair  look  at  the  west.  She  was  a 
round-faced,  pleasant -looking  woman,  who 
had  by  no  means  lost  all  her  youthful 
charms,  though  she  stepped  heavily,  and 
was  nearer  sixty  than  fifty  ;  one  would  have 
thought  her  much  younger  than  her  hus- 
band. 

"  Where  's  Doris?  "  he  asked  presently. 

"  Right  up  there  in  her  room.  She's  been 
sewing  on  my  new  dress  this  afternoon.  I 
thought  likely  it  might  come  cool  any  day 
now,  and  I  should  need  it.  I  told  her  I  'd 
get  supper,  if  she  wanted  to  finish.  Doris 
is  one  that  doesn't  like  to  let  the  ends  o' 
work  lay  over,  just  like  me.  And  she 's 
promised  to  be  off  this  evenin'." 

The  farmer  was  beginning  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion, as  they  walked  toward  the  door  to- 
gether, when  his  wife  turned  back  at  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps.  "  Sakes 
alive,  there  comes  a  peddler!  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  You  just  tend  to  him,  Isr'el.  I  must  put 
the  tea  on ;  the  men  '11  be  here  before  we 
know  it,"  and  she  hurried  into  the  house  to 
establish  herself  behind  the  nearest  window 
blind,  and  make  sure  what  the  stranger  and 
foreigner  wished  to  offer  before  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  interviewed  in  person. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  15 

Doris  also  looked  out  of  the  window  just 
above,  at  the  sound  of  a  strange  voice.  The 
young  man  carried  a  picture  carefully  in  his 
hand,  and  a  bundle  of  sticks  and  other  para- 
phernalia beside.  He  was  asking  if  he  could 
be  driven  to  the  next  town,  or,  better  still, 
if  he  could  have  a  night's  lodging  at  the 
farm,  and  laughingly  explained  his  forsaken 
condition.  "I  would  have  walked  back,  and 
thought  nothing  of  it,"  he  concluded,  "  but 
I  was  thrown  from  a  horse  not  long  ago,  and 
I  am  a  little  lame  yet." 

"  I  '11  speak  to  mother  first,"  said  the  host. 
"  She  must  have  her  say  about  keepin'  ye  ;  " 
but  he  was  most  favorably  inclined  toward 
the  stranger,  and  called  his  wife,  who  waited 
a  few  moments  before  replying,  and  then 
took  the  farthest  way,  all  round  the  kitchen, 
from  her  window  to  the  door  close  beside  it. 

"  This  young  man  wants  to  know  if  you 
can  keep  him  over  night  ?  "  the  farmer  in- 
quired, with  a  sort  of  appealing  decisiveness, 
while  Mrs.  Owen,  moved  by  proper  wisdom, 
regarded  the  wayfarer  with  stern  scrutiny. 
He  was  undeniably  a  gentleman,  which  was 
both  an  incentive  and  a  shock  to  her  house- 
keeping instincts.  It  involved  the  use  of  a 
spare  bedroom  and  some  difference  in  the 


16  A  MARSH  JSLAND. 

supper  ;  but  after  all,  she  might  as  well  take 
the  chance  of  good  society  and  earning  a  dol- 
lar as  anybody  else.  The  poor  fellow  looked 
anxious,  and  with  the  air  of  granting  a  favor 
Mrs.  Owen  nodded  and  gave  her  permission. 

There  was  a  word  or  two  of  hearty  thanks, 
as  the  stranger  put  down  his  burden ;  but 
the  decision  having  been  given,  he  seemed 
to  become  one  of  the  household  at  once,  and 
looked  up  at  his  landlady  with  a  frank 
friendliness  which  brought  a  tinge  of  girlish 
color  into  her  solid  cheek.  "  Here  are  some 
mushrooms  I  found  in  the  pasture,"  he  said, 
and  handed  her  the  knotted  handkerchief 
which  had  been  slung  to  one  of  the  rods  of 
the  easel. 

Mrs.  Owen  looked  doubtful,  but  pleased, 
and  proceeded  to  examine  them  at  once. 
"  Dear  me,  I  don't  want  none  of  them,"  she 
answered.  "  I  should  expect  to  be  p'isoned, 
certain  sure.  Perhaps  you  're  acquainted 
with  them  where  you  come  from,  but  we 
don't  eat  such  about  here." 

"  Oh,  but  they  're  too  good  to  be  thrown 
away,"  protested  the  hungry  young  fellow. 
"  I  can  cook  them  myself,  if  you  don't 
mind." 

"  Bless  you,  lad,  I  '11  get  you  a  good  sup- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  17 

per,  and  welcome,"  announced  Mrs.  Owen, 
with  an  air  of  confidence  in  her  own  powers. 
"  Doris,  Doris  !  "  she  called,  lifting  her  face 
toward  the  upper  window.  "  Won't  you 
come  down  ?  I  '11  show  you  your  room 
quick  as  I  can,"  she  added  to  the  guest,  as 
she  disappeared  within  the  door. 

"  '  Doris?  '  "  he  repeated  questioningly  to 
the  farmer,  who  had  been  listening  with  a 
pleased  smile  to  the  conversation.  "  What 
a  pretty  name  !  " 

"  That  's  my  daughter,  —  all  the  girl 
we  've  got,"  said  Mr.  Owen.  " '  Tis  a  good 
name ;  't  was  my  mother's,  and  her  mother's 
before  her.  .  .  .  What  might  I  call  you?" 
was  added  presently,  in  a  half-confidential 
way,  though,  to  judge  from  the  tone,  the  mo- 
tive was  interest  instead  of  curiosity. 

"  Dale,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  And 
you  're  Mr.  Owen,  I  believe.  I  asked  that 
young  scalawag  who  drove  me  over  this 
noon.  I  noticed  the  farm  when  we  were 
crossing  the  marshes." 

"  Israel  Owen  is  right.  I  'm  owin'  only 
in  name,  though ;  "  and  the  guest  laughed 
promptly  at  the  time-honored  joke,  and  even 
gave  an  admiring  glance  at  the  comfortable 
old  house  and  its  surroundings.  "  We  'd 
2 


18  A  AfARSff  ISLAND. 

better  come  in  now;  't  is  getting  damp. 
The  women  '11  show  you  a  place  for  your 
picture.  Well,  that's  very  pretty,  I  de- 
clare," as  it  was  turned  into  view.  "  I  'm 
glad  I  left  that  little  white  birch  for  ye.  I 
was  obliged  to  clear  up  the  pasture  some  this 
last  fall,  but  somehow  or  'nother  I  did  n't 
meddle  with  that.  They're  tender-lookin' 
things,  them  little  birches,  though  they  '11 
catch  on  to  the  rocks  where  nothing  else  will. 
The  old  willers,  too,  —  you  've  got  'em  com- 
plete. Follow  it  for  a  trade,  do  ye  ?  "  But 
the  answer  seemed  to  be  taken  for  granted, 
while  Dick  was  wondering  what  he  had 
better  say. 

The  Owens'  guest  had  made  friends  with 
many  a  country  household,  but  this  episode 
promised  to  be  most  charming,  and  an  un- 
reasonable satisfaction  filled  his  mind  at 
every  new  feature  of  such  homely  life.  He 
had  been  graciously  invited  to  step  into  the 
clock-room,  and  he  could  see  through  the 
gathering  twilight  an  assemblage  of  old 
furnishings  and  a  general  aspect  of  rural 
dignity  and  self-respect.  He  was  already 
impatient  of  his  countrymen's  habit  of  fol- 
lowing a  beaten  track,  having  learned  to 
travel  more  sensibly  abroad.  This  was 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  19 

evidently  the  home  of  an  old-fashioned 
farmer  of  the  best  sort,  and  Dick  Dale 
became  blissfully  enthusiastic  as  he  planned 
a  short  residence  in  such  a  delightful  region. 
It  seemed  a  great  while  since  he  had  first 
driven  along  these  roads,  and  made  up  his 
mind  that  some  day  or  other  he  must  come 
back  quietly  by  himself  to  make  some 
sketches.  This  was  like  a  dream's  coming 
true.  He  had  just  changed  his  plans  on  a 
sudden  impulse,  meaning  to  have  only  a 
day  or  two  for  himself  before  he  kept  a  half 
engagement  to  join  some  acquaintances  in 
town.  Was  not  he  his  own  master?  And 
what  difference  would  a  delicious  week  or 
two  here  make  to  anybody  but  himself  ?  He 
had  a  simple  fondness  for  a  summer's  round 
of  visits,  and  yet  had  persuaded  himself 
lately  that  he  was  wasting  his  time.  "  How 
a  fellow  does  tie  himself  hand  and  foot  for 
six  weeks  together ! "  he  sagely  reflected. 
"  This  is  like  a  bit  of  freedom,"  and  he  lis- 
tened for  a  moment  to  the  steady  ticking 
of  the  monarch  of  the  clock-room.  It  was 
a  mere  chance  that  he  was  here.  The  sketch- 
ing of  the  day  before  had  been  unsuccessful, 
and  he  was  blaming  himself  for  his  nonsense 
as  he  came  away  from  the  next  town  that 


20  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

very  morning.  He  had  after  all  taken  hold 
of  the  golden  string.  The  old  farmer  was  a 
man  of  whom  one  should  make  the  most. 
Once  Dick  had  known  another  of  exactly 
the  same  sort,  in  Devonshire  ;  they  might 
be  brothers.  And  Doris,  too,  —  there  was 
Doris  ;  the  young  man's  heart  gave  an  im- 
patient bound.  If  she  proved  to  be  the  flower 
of  this  fine  old  growth,  his  adventure  would 
be  worth  having. 

Somebody  was  stepping  quickly  about 
in  the  room  overhead,  but  Mr.  Dale  at 
that  moment  ceased  his  vague  anticipations, 
and  went  out,  as  if  he  were  quite  familiar 
with  his  position,  to  find  Mrs.  Owen  in  the 
kitchen. 

"  I  s'pose  you  're  getting  sharp  set  enough 
by  this  time,"  said  the  hostess;  "but  you 
make  yourself  at  home,  and  I  won't  keep 
you  waiting  a  great  while.  'T  is  later  than 
we  commonly  set  down  to  supper,  but  when 
the  men  folks  are  getting  in  the  salt  hay 
it  keeps  everything  at  odds.  Isr'el  's  most 
through  milkin',  he  says.  He  fetched  the 
cows  up  early,  but  he  come  out,  just  as  we 
saw  you,  to  look  an'  see  if  the  sun  set  all 
right.  He's  too  fanciful  for  such  an  old 
creatur',  I  tell  him,"  and  she  looked  up  at 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  21 

the  young  man's  face  for  the  sympathy  and 
intelligence  she  was  sure  to  find. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  make  myself  at  home,"  Dale 
answered.  "  Something  would  happen  to 
that  boy  if  he  came  after  me  now.  I  should 
like  very  much  indeed  to  stay  a  day  or  two 
here,  instead  of  over  night.  It  would  be  so 
near  my  —  work." 

"We  shall  have  to  think  that  over,  I 
expect,  —  all  of  us,"  the  busy  woman  an- 
swered, hurrying  to  the  stove.  "  But  you  're 
welcome  to-night,  certain.  There,  Doris, 
you  take  Mr.  Dale  up  and  show  him  his  bed- 
room, and  we  won't  waste  time  on  apologies, 
for  you  've  got  to  take  us  as  you  find  us." 

A  door  had  opened  at  the  foot  of  a  flight 
of  stairs,  and  a  tall  young  woman  half  with- 
drew in  her  surprise  at  meeting  the  stranger 
unexpectedly.  It  would  not  be  proper  to 
show  him  to  his  room  except  by  the  front 
staircase,  and  so  she  came  down  into  the 
kitchen.  "  You  will  almost  want  a  candle," 
she  said,  in  a  clear,  fine  voice,  and  led  the 
way  through  the  clock -room  with  perfect 
composure,  and  finally  left  him  in  a  small 
chamber,  whose  single  window  was  open  to 
the  faded  western  sky. 

"Doris,  Doris,"   the  young  man  said  to 


22  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

himself  softly.  "  She  is  something  new ;  it 
is  like  finding  a  garden  flower  growing  in  a 
field." 

The  very  twilight  in  the  house  had  helped 
to  make  the  sight  of  her  surprising.  She 
walked  before  him,  slender  and  stately ;  there 
was  a  perfection  about  her  which  made  him 
scornfully  reflect  upon  the  ill-development, 
the  incompleteness  and  rudimentariness,  of 
most  members  of  the  human  race.  He  could 
hardly  wait  to  see  her  again,  and  an  eager- 
ness to  make  himself  attractive  to  her  took 
possession  of  him.  The  natural  reverence 
which  a  truly  beautiful  woman  can  always 
inspire  was  by  no  means  wanting,  and  so 
sweet  a  mystery  as  Doris  must  be  solved  as 
soon  as  possible. 

The  lower  room  and  the  entry  through 
which  they  had  come  had  been  dark,  so  that 
the  stranger  stumbled  once  or  twice,  to  his 
great  displeasure,  and  might  at  last  have 
gone  headlong  into  the  little  bedroom  if 
Doris  had  not  said,  "  Mind  the  step !  "  with 
an  air  of  gentle  patience.  His  guide  left 
him  at  the  door,  and  as  he  looked  about  the 
room  he  thought  it  quiet  and  orderly  enough 
to  have  been  her  own.  After  the  darkness 
they  had  just  left  it  seemed  well  lighted  by 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  23 

the  sunset,  which  was  now  all  faint  rose-color 
and  gray.  There  was  a  plump-looking  bed, 
like  a  well-risen  loaf,  and  a  straight-backed 
chair  or  two,  and  a  small  three  -  cornered 
washstand,  toward  which  his  paint-streaked 
hands  led  him  at  once.  He  lifted  the  water- 
jug  with  admiration.  It  held  very  little, 
but  it  was  of  an  adorable  shape  and  quality 
of  ancient  English  crockery,  and  he  reminded 
himself  that  he  might  find  a  way  through  old 
Mrs.  Owen's  heart  to  her  closets ;  for  who 
knew  what  unappreciated  treasures  might 
be  hidden  away  ?  Over  the  narrow  mantel- 
piece there  hung  a  sword,  and,  as  well  as  the 
guest  could  see,  an  army  commission  or  dis- 
charge in  a  simple  frame.  Perhaps  Doris 
had  lost  a  lover,  and  a  thrill  of  sympathy 
filled  this  new  admirer's  mind  ;  but  on  second 
thought  he  concluded  that  it  was  much  better 
for  him  than  her  having  a  present  lover.  She 
seemed  too  young  to  have  known  much  of 
the  war,  and  this  might  have  been  the  prop- 
erty of  an  elder  brother  or  an  uncle,  or  even 
the  trophy  of  Farmer  Owen  himself.  There 
was  no  reason  why  the  sword  should  not  have 
been  there  since  the  days  of  the  ^Revolution, 
for  that  matter ;  the  house  was  certainly  old 
enough,  and  looked,  so  far  as  he  had  seen, 


24  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

as  if  there  had  been  few  changes  during  the 
last  half  century.  There  was  a  state  of  com- 
plete surrender  to  fate  involved  by  the  ab- 
sence of  any  personal  property,  and  after 
taking  a  long  look  from  the  narrow  window, 
which  made  him  more  in  love  with  the  coun- 
tryside than  ever,  Dick  Dale  attempted  to 
return  to  the  society  of  his  new  friends.  A 
fear  of  lurking  pitfalls  of  back  staircases 
made  him  advance  slowly,  but  with  entire 
safety  to  himself.  He  thought  once  with 
great  amusement  that  he  was  capable  of 
making  the  most  of  a  slight  twist  to  his  ankle 
in  order  to  secure  a  week's  stay  at  the  farm. 
Art  might  be  his  excuse,  at  any  rate,  for  he 
was  quite  sincere  in  wishing  to  carry  away 
some  sketches  of  the  Sussex  neighborhood. 
This  was  not  a  very  purposeful  young  man : 
those  who  were  growing  old  already  among 
his  comrades  might  laugh  or  scold  at  him  for 
his  apparent  neglect  of  life's  great  oppor- 
tunities, but  nobody  could  accuse  him  of  not 
making  the  most  of  the  days  as  they  came. 
His  idleness  might  have  made  him  wiser  than 
their  business  had  made  them,  but  this  was 
hardly  proved  to  most  people's  satisfaction. 
If  he  did  nothing  for  himself,  a  few  had  said 
sneeringly,  everybody  was  the  more  ready  to 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  25 

serve  him.  But  the  rest  knew  that  he  was 
only  an  idle  hero,  and  loved  him  and  believed 
in  him,  and  had  need  of  patience. 

Downstairs  in  the  kitchen  Israel  Owen 
and  his  wife  had  been  discussing  this  inter- 
esting young  man  who  had  suddenly  de- 
manded their  hospitality.  Guests  were  by 
no  means  rare  in  summer  weather,  but  the 
list  of  relatives  and  friends  had  been  short- 
ened in  the  last  few  years,  and  many  of  the 
old  aunts  and  cousins  had  died  who  used  to 
depend  upon  a  visit  at  the  farm.  Doris  was 
not  one  who  made  many  acquaintances,  her 
mother  had  o^ten  said,  with  regret.  She  had 
been  sent  to  Westmarket  to  school,  and  stood 
well  in  her  classes,  beside  having  the  ad- 
vantage of  good  society  at  the  cousin's  house 
where  she  boarded  ;  but  she  had  seemed  en- 
tirely contented  to  be  at  home  ever  since. 
Mrs.  Owen  possessed  a  most  social  nature, 
and  always  wished  for  more  excitement  and 
news  than  it  was  possible  to  find.  She  would 
have  liked  a  village  life  best,  with  plenty  of 
visiting  from  house  to  house  and  great  au- 
thority in  parish  matters.  She  truly  loved 
her  husband,  but  when  she  married  him  it 
was  with  a  firm  determination  to  persuade 
him  to  sell  the  farm  before  many  years,  and 


26  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

the  marsh  island  was  but  a  stepping-stone  for 
her  ambition.  She  had  stood  there  disap- 
pointed ever  since,  for  the  fancied  stepping- 
stone  had  proved  to  be  a  pedestal.  She  had 
requested  earnestly,  in  early  life,  that  they 
might  go  to  some  centre  of  civilization,  for 
the  children's  sake ;  but  of  late  years,  when 
Doris  was  found  to  be,  as  was  often  asserted, 
just  such  a  slow-coach  as  her  father,  Martha 
Owen  had  resigned  herself  to  her  fate.  No- 
body knew  better  than  she  that  she  was  looked 
upon  with  envy  by  all  her  neighbors.  She 
had  money  enough  and  to  spare,  but  for  all 
that  she  was  secretly  grieved  and  dissatisfied 
because  she  spent  her  days  as  a  farmer's 
wife.  Her  acquaintances  were  well  used  to 
her  complaints.  She  was  a  cheerful,  friendly 
soul,  even  in  her  fault-finding,  and  a  listener 
was  more  apt  to  laugh  at  than  to  pity  her 
smaller  troubles.  However,  the  undercur- 
rent of  dislike  was  sure  to  be  felt  by  those 
who  lived  with  her,  and  her  family  recog- 
nized a  day  now  and  then  when  it  was  best 
to  step  gently  on  their  way,  and  not  ven- 
ture upon  the  discussion  of  even  a  trifling 
subject. 

"  He  's  no  strolling  fellow,"  she  was  saying 
of  her  guest.     "  You  just  look  at  that  hand- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  27 

kerchief  with  the  toadstools  in  it.  No  finer 
linen  ever  came  into  this  house.  And  even 
his  initials  on  it,  like  a  girl's.  Most  likely 
't  is  some  fancy  led  him  here  painting  pic- 
tures. I  don't  believe  he  follows  it  for  a 
trade,  but  he  may.  I  wish  I  'd  told  him  to 
throw  these  things  out,"  she  added,  looking 
at  the  contents  of  the  handkerchief  with 
considerable  awe.  "  I  '11  let  him  take  care 
of  'em,  any  way.  I  don't  want  'em  round 
the  kitchen." 

"  What 's  one  man's  meat 's  another  man's 
p'ison,"  sagely  observed  one  of  the  young 
haymakers,  who  had  drenched  his  head  well 
at  the  pump,  and  sat  fanning  himself  with 
his  frayed  straw  hat  on  the  doorstep.  "  I 
used  to  work  over  to  the  quarries  with  an  old 
Frenchman,  who  pretty  near  lived  on  'em 
while  they  lasted.  He  give  me  some  one 
day  on  a  piece  of  bread,  and  they  tasted  first 
rate.  I  never  saw  such  a  chowder  as  he 
could  set  on  to  the  table.  Did  n't  know 
what  it  was  when  he  first  caught  sight  of  it, 
either." 

"  The  French  is  born  cooks,  I  've  always 
heard,"  said  Mrs.  Owen,  not  wishing  to  be 
instructed  by  this  stripling,  while  her  hus- 
band chivalrously  resented  so  limited  a  view 


28  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

of  the  great  nation,  and  said  meditatively 
that  he  did  n't  doubt  that  Bonaparte  could 
have  cooked  if  he  tried.  He  did  everything 
else  he  undertook  for  a  time. 

"  The  boys  used  to  rough  that  old  fellow 
on  account  of  eatin'  frogs,"  Jim  Fales  as- 
serted, as  if  he  were  determined  to  be  the 
ally  of  his  hostess.  He  was  waiting  impa- 
tiently for  his  supper  at  that  moment. 

"  The  young  man  spoke  about  bein'  kept 
longer  than  overnight,  didn't  he?"  asked 
the  master  of  the  house  softly,  as  if  he  fa- 
vored the  idea.  "  I  declare,  Marthy,  he  makes 
me  think  of  Isr'el  a  little.  He 's  got  a  pleas- 
ant way  with  him.  I  don't  know  but  what  I 
should  say  yes ;  if  you  feel  to,  that  is." 

"  We  need  n't  urge  him  quick  as  he  gets 
downstairs,"  came  the  answer  from  the  pan- 
try. "  We  're  noways  obliged  to  keep  board- 
ers ;  and  we  're  a-cuttin'  the  nia'sh  hay,  that 
always  makes  extry  work ;  and  it 's  incon- 
venient havin'  Temp'rance  off,  though  Doris 
and  I  get  along  well  enough  without  her  so 
far.  I  suppose  he  'd  be  willin'  to  pay  high 
board ;  but  there,  we  may  never  hear  nothing 
more  about  it.  I  do'  know  but  what  he  does 
favor  Isr'el  a  little  about  his  forehead  an' 
eyes,"  she  added,  in  a  lower  tone.  "  Now, 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  29 

Jim  Fales,  do  call  in  Mr.  Jenks  and  Allen, 
and  have  your  supper.  You  've  been  lookin' 
hungry  enough  at  me  to  scare  anybody,  like 
the  old  cat  yisterday,  after  she  'd  been  shut 
up  in  the  apple  sullar  since  Wednesday. 
She  was  follerin'  me  the  whole  forenoon." 

"  Where  's  Doris  ?  "  asked  the  farmer 
again.  "  Why  ain't  she  helpin'  of  you?  " 

"  She 's  had  some  supper,  —  all  she  want- 
ed," replied  the  mother,  bustling  more  than 
ever,  and  retreating  to  the  outer  kitchen, 
where  the  stove  had  its  summer  residence. 
"  They  've  got  to  git  there  earlier  'n  com- 
mon. This  is  the  night  she  promised  to  go 
over  to  the  minister's  with  Dan  Lester. 
Some  of  the  young  folks "  — 

"*  That 's  all  right,"  and  Mr.  Owen's  voice 
had  a  more  satisfied  tone  than  his  wife's. 
"  But  I  thought 't  was  Thursday  nights  they 
went.  I  forgot  about  the  parson's  being 
away  this  week." 

"  'T  would  have  been  just  as  well  for  me 
if  she  'd  kept  at  home  to-night,  but  I  ain't 
one  to  complain.  Dan  Lester  takes  a  good 
deal  for  granted  lately,  seems  to  me." 

"  He 's  been  working  smart  all  day,"  said 
the  farmer.  "  Dan  's  a  willin'  fellow,  and 
there  were  others  knew  that  I  was  short  of 


80  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

help.  I  'd  fetched  him  home  to  supper  if  I 
had  remembered  about  to-night." 

"  He  could  n't  ride  over  there  with  his 
haying  rig  on,"  replied  the  mistress,  scorn- 
fully taking  her  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  pouring  a  steaming  cup  of  tea  for 
anybody  who  would  come  to  claim  it.  All 
the  haymakers  filed  in  at  the  door  at  that 
minute,  and  began  to  help  themselves  before 
they  were  fairly  seated. 

"  I  '11  speak  to  the  young  man,"  said  Mr. 
Owen ;  but  just  at  that  moment  the  door 
opened,  and  Mr.  Richard  Dale  made  his  ap- 
pearance. 

The  three  hungry  men  who  had  taken  one 
side  of  the  supper  table  to  themselves  paused 
for  an  instant  to  regard  the  stranger ;  then 
they  all  looked  down  again,  and  went  on 
eating. 

"  You  see  we  give  you  welcome  to  what 
we  have,  and  make  no  stranger  of  you,  my 
lad,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  with  fine 
old-fashioned  courtesy ;  while  Dale  nodded 
and  smiled,  and  began  to  prove  himself  as 
hungry  as  the  rest. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  not  frighten  you,  Mrs. 
Owen,"  he  ventured  to  say  presently,  for 
there  was  a  chilling  silence  upon  the  little 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  31 

company.  "  The  truth  is,  I  have  had  noth- 
ing to  eat  since  breakfast ;  "  at  which  the 
good  woman's  hospitable  heart  was  touched, 
and  she  leaned  over  to  see  if  his  plate  lacked 
anything.  She  had  breakfasted  before  six 
o'clock,  which  was  early  enough  at  that  time 
of  year,  when  the  mornings  were  much 
shorter  than  in  June.  Dale  had  had  an  ad- 
vantage of  three  hours,  or  more,  but  the  day 
since  then  seemed  long ;  such  a  good  supper 
as  this  was  worth  waiting  for,  and  he  stated 
the  fact  mojt  sincerely.  Soon  the  shyest 
member  of  the  party  was  quite  at  his  ease 
again,  and  the  stranger  was  making  each 
man  his  friend.  His  small  adventure  was 
rendered  more  amusing  than  it  had  really 
seemed  at  the  time,  and  an  ingenious  threat 
and  argument  against  the  delinquent  small 
boy  served  to  entertain  the  company  to  such 
a  degree  that  there  was  a  merry  shout  of 
laughter.  Jim  Fales  thought  he  had  done 
this  delightful  companion  a  great  wrong  at 
first,  and  began  to  admire  him  intensely. 
The  haymakers  presently  resumed  a  discus- 
sion of  the  probable  length  of  a  snake  which 
had  been  seen  at  the  edge  of  the  marsh  that 
day ;  but  Mr.  Jenks,  the  senior  workman, 
continued  to  eat  his  supper,  as  if  he  consid- 


32  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

ered  that  the  most  important  duty  of  the 
moment.  He  resembled  a  sailor:  there  were 
small  gold  rings  in  his  ears,  and  he  had  a 
foreign  look,  —  acquired,  it  must  have  been, 
for  he  was  unmistakably  a  New  Englander 
to  begin  with.  Dale  soon  found  himself  in- 
fluenced by  the  deference  which  the  rest  of 
the  party  paid  to  Mr.  Jenks,  and  looked  up 
with  pleased  expectancy  when  the  old  farmer 
said,  "  Jenks,  give  us  the  particulars  of  that 
big  raskill.  You  was  one  of  three  that  killed 
him  over  on  the  Six-Mile  Ma'sh.  Don't  set 
there  lookin'  as  innycent  as  a  man  that 's 
drivin'  a  new  hoss !  "  Whereupon  silent  Mr. 
Jenks  was  induced  to  tell  his  best  story, 
though  not  without  much  precision  and  un- 
necessary delay. 

It  seemed  very  dark  now,  out-of-doors,  and 
when  some  one  drove  quickly  into  the  yard, 
toward  the  close  of  this  unexpectedly  festive 
occasion,  the  guest  of  the  household  felt  a 
sudden  dismay.  He  was  enjoying  himself 
with  all  his  heart,  and  savagely  assured  him- 
self that  the  boy  might  turn  about  and  go 
back  again.  He  would  neither  be  driven 
into  a  ditch  nor  try  to  find  his  own  way  over 
unfamiliar  roads. 

Nobody  seemed  to  be  concerned  with  the 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  33 

arrival,  however,  and  our  friend  went  on 
eating  his  hot  gingerbread  with  its  crisp 
crust.  He  observed  that  a  shadow  over- 
spread Mrs.  Owen's  countenance  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  presently  took  heart,  and  thought 
he  need  not  have  been  so  angry,  after  all. 
There  was  no  sound  of  approaching  foot- 
steps, though  he  had  distinctly  heard  some 
one  leap  to  the  ground ;  but  directly  the 
door  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway,  which  had 
received  more  than  one  hopeful  glance,  was 
opened,  and  Doris  appeared  again,  ready  for 
a  drive.  She  was  plainly  dressed,  and  the 
second  view  of  her  was  by  no  means  disap- 
pointing. "  I  don't  feel  right  to  be  leaving 
you,  mother,"  she  said,  pausing  a  moment, 
"  but  I  finished  the  dress."  The  elder  woman 
hardly  listened  as  she  looked  at  her  daughter 
with  motherly  pride,  and  then  at  the  young 
stranger,  who  had  risen  and  stood  ready  to 
escort  Doris  a  little  way  ;  to  open  a  door  for 
her,  perhaps,  though  the  one  which  led  to  the 
yard  was  already  open.  He  was  strangely 
envious  of  the  cavalier  outside,  and  came 
quietly  back  to  his  place  at  the  table.  Every- 
body listened  as  the  two  voices  —  the  girl's 
and  was  it  her  lover's  ?  —  exchanged  greet- 
ings, and  then  the  wheels  trundled  away 


84  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

down  the  road.  The  horse  was  not  one  that 
would  stand  well,  but  an  excellent  beast  on 
the  road,  Mr.  Owen  at  length  mentioned, 
with  a  little  reluctance  at  being  obliged  to 
speak  first ;  and  then  there  was  another 
pause,  and  the  crickets  chirped  louder  than 
ever,  and  a  rising  breeze  swayed  the  great 
willows  and  blew  their  faint  fragrance 
through  the  wide  kitchen. 

Mrs.  Owen  had  been  embarrassed  and  a 
little  flustered,  as  she  would  have  expressed 
it,  by  the  gallantry  the  handsome  stranger 
had  shown  her  daughter ;  the  girl  herself 
had  accepted  it  without  surprise.  There 
was  a  charming  dignity  and  simplicity  about 
Doris,  and  if  there  were  a  chance,  though 
Dick  Dale  was  not  experienced  in  figure- 
drawing,  he  woidd  try  to  make  a  sketch  of 
her,  for  her  father's  sake,  before  he  went 
away.  The  old  man's  pathetic  face  grew 
more  and  more  attractive  to  him,  also,  and 
altogether  he  was  glad  to  be  at  the  farm. 
He  had  not  seen  anything  of  such  life  as 
this  since  he  was  a  boy. 


III. 

THE  haymakers  left  their  seats  at  the  ta- 
ble, and  strayed  away  one  by  one,  and  were 
seen  no  more  that  night.  The  day  had  been 
long  and  very  hot  for  the  season,  and  no 
doubt  they  were  ready  to  seek  their  couches 
in  the  close,  low  -  storied  kitchen  chamber. 
First,  however,  it  was  necessary  to  have  a 
consultation  upon  the  appearance  of  the 
stranger,  and  to  make  ingenious  guesses  at 
his  past  history,  not  omitting  also  his  pres- 
ent circumstances  and  future  plans. 

"  He  never  was  this  way  before.  Think 
likely  he  thought  he  'd  come  round  and  take 
a  look  at  the  heathen,"  said  Jim  Fales,  who 
was  best  acquainted  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  who,  by  virtue  of  a  four  months'  resi- 
dence in  the  family,  could  speak  with  great 
authority.  His  employer  commonly  asserted 
that  James  was  young,  but  willing,  when  it 
became  necessary  to  allude  to  him,  and  the 
haymakers  themselves  treated  him  with  a 
cheerful  forbearance  which  might  easily 


86  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

have  degenerated  into  something  less.  Jim 
had  taken  the  place  of  a  middle-aged  man 
who  had  been  Mr.  Owen's  mainstay  for 
many  years ;  but  Asa  had  been  persuaded, 
against  the  wishes  and  warnings  of  his  East- 
ern friends,  to  join  a  brother  who  had  long 
ago  settled  in  the  West.  The  haymakers 
asked  Jim  for  news  of  him. 

"  Thought  he  'd  grow  up  with  the  country, 
I  expect,"  remarked  Mr.  Jenks,  who  was 
sitting  at  the  end  of  the  grindstone  frame. 

"  Asa  was  well  off,"  said  Jim.  "  We 
think  that  his  folks  had  an  eye  to  his  means, 
and  expected,  if  they  got  him  rooted  up  and 
planted  out  there,  they  could  do  as  they  were 
a  mind  to.  I  guess  they  '11  have  to  set  him 
out  in  a  new  spot  before  he'll  shake  down 
much  of  a  crop  of  his  dollars,"  the  young 
man  added  smartly,  much  elated  at  his  com- 
parison. 

"  Asa  was  snug,"  agreed  Mr.  Jenks,  not 
appearing  to  notice  anything  peculiar  about 
the  preceding  statement.  "  I  wa'n't  what 
you  would  call  well  acquainted  with  him, 
but  I  guess  he  may  make  out  to  come  back 
if  he  don't  like.  He  never  could  have  had 
no  great  expense  here :  he  never  had  noth- 
ing special  to  lay  his  money  out  on,  so  't  was 
natural  it  accumulated." 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  37 

"  Some  folks  can't  spend,  and  more  can't 
save,"  said  Allen,  who  was  busily  puffing  at 
his  pipe,  which  seemed  to  have  some  trouble 
with  its  draft.  "  They  all  seem  to  be  open- 
handed,  nice  folks  here  to  Owens'.  Lord, 
what  a  supper  I  laid  away !  They  live  well, 
don't  they  ?  " 

"  Pretty  fair,"  said  Jim  mildly,  but  with 
evident  pleasure,  as  if  he  were  being  person- 
ally praised.  His  own  clothes  had  grown 
very  tight  since  he  took  up  his  residence  on 
the  Marsh  Island. 

It  happened  that  Farmer  Owen  was  also 
thinking  of  his  own  loss  and  Asa's  lack  of 
judgment.  He  and  young  Dale  sat  together 
in  the  side  doorway,  in  two  of  the  kitchen 
chairs,  while  the  mistress  of  the  house  clicked 
and  rattled  the  supper  plates,  and  eclipsed 
the  bright  light  of  the  kitchen  as  she  went  to 
and  fro.  Dick  was  listening  to  the  crick- 
ets and  the  soft  sounds  that  came  out  of 
the  warm  darkness,  when  Mr.  Owen  asked 
whether  he  had  ever  been  much  to  the  west- 
ward. 

"  Only  once,  a  good  while  ago,"  he  an- 
swered, a  little  surprised.  But  this  seemed 
somewhat  unsatisfactory. 


38  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

"  I  Ve  been  wanting  to  inquire,"  said  the 
farmer.  "  This  region  never  was  great  for 
havin'  the  Western  fever,  but  Asa  Bunt, 
that  has  lived  with  us  a  good  many  years, 
—  since  my  father's  day  't  was,  —  took  a  no- 
tion to  seek  his  fortune.  I  guess  a  pack 
o'  hungry,  worthless  folks  o'  his  was  seekin' 
theirs ;  they  give  him  no  peace." 

Dale  did  not  find  himself  deeply  interested 
in  this  statement,  and  there  was  a  short  pe- 
riod of  silence. 

"My  father's  brothers  and  my  mother's 
folks  all  followed  the  sea,"  said  Israel  Owen 
presently,  "and  I  think  my  boy  had  it  in 
him,  for  all  I  dwell  so  much  upon  having 
had  him  spared  to  be  at  home  with  me." 

The  listener  turned  his  head,  as  if  eager 
to  know  the  rest  of  the  story. 

"  Killed  in  the  war,  —  all  the  boy  I  ever 
had,"  was  the  response.  "  Only  twenty-one, 
he  was,  the  April  before  he  died  in  July. 
Shot  dead,  so  he  did  n't  suffer  any,  so  far  as 
we  know.  He  's  laying  out  here  in  the  or- 
chard, alongside  the  rest  of  the  folks.  I 
went  out  South  and  fetched  him  home  to 
the  old  place.  I  've  been  thinking  ever 
since  I  see  you  that  you  favor  him  in  your 
looks:  there's  something  about  your  fore- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  39 

head  and  eyes  and  the  way  your  hair  grows. 
I  '11  show  you  a  likeness  of  him  in  the  morn- 
ing: 'tis  a  rough  thing  that  was  taken  in 
camp,  that  he  sent  home  to  me.  There  are 
some  other  pictures  of  him  that  his  mother 
keeps,  taken  younger,  but  I  seem  to  set  the 
most  by  mine." 

"  That  was  his  sword  in  the  room  I  am  to 
sleep  in  ?  "  asked  Dale,  filled  with  pity,  and 
understanding  the  pathetic  smile  of  this  ap- 
parently prosperous  man. 

"  Yes.  The  folks  thought  they  ought  to 
have  it  down  in  the  best  room,  but  I  did  n't 
seem  to  want  to.  That  was  always  his  bed- 
room, and  there  are  some  other  things  there 
that  belonged  to  him,  and  I  like  to  keep  'em 
together.  He  was  first  leftenant  when  he 
was  shot.  There  were  two  girls  between 
him  an'  Doris,  but  they  died  very  small. 
Doris  is  —  I  could  n't  get  along  without  her 
nohow ;  but  there  'd  been  an  Isr'el  Owen 
on  the  farm  for  near  two  hundred  years,  and 
now  there  '11  never  be  another.  I  ain't  a 
sound  man  myself,  so  I  was  n't  out  in  the 
army ;  but  I  never  felt  so  cheap  in  my  life 
as  I  did  the  forenoon  I  see  Isr'el  marchin' 
by,  an'  the  rest  of  'em.  I  never  got  no  such 
news  as  when  I  heard  he  was  shot.  I've 


40  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

kep'  the  farm  goin'  and  stood  in  my  lot  an' 
place  the  best  I  could,  but  I  tell  you  it  took 
the  heart  right  out  o'  me." 

Dale  was  silent ;  there  was  nothing  he 
could  say.  The  father  had  looked  his  sorrow 
in  the  face  so  long  that  a  stranger's  thought 
of  it  was  not  worth  expression.  Yet  he  could 
just  remember  his  own  father,  and  somehow 
a  deep  sympathy  flashed  quick  from  one 
man's  heart  to  the  other. 

"  You  spoke  about  stopping  in  the  neigh- 
borhood for  a  few  days  ?  "  the  host  said,  after 
a  pause,  in  which  they  had  both  listened  to 
the  far-away  strange  cry  of  a  sea-bird  down 
on  the  marshes.  Dale  responded  with  in- 
stant gratitude  and  hopefulness :  — 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much.  I  must  fin- 
ish the  picture  I  began  to-day,  and  I  wish  to 
make  several  other  sketches.  It  really  would 
be  a  great  favor  if  Mrs.  Owen  could  make 
room  for  me.  I  must  bring  my  traps  over 
from  Dunster,  though.  Will  any  of  your 
people  be  driving  that  way  in  the  morn- 
ing?" 

Mrs.  Owen  herself  was  standing  near,  and 
answered  this,  as  if  she  were  the  only  one 
to  be  consulted  in  such  important  arrange- 
ments. "We  never  have  taken  folks  to 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  41 

board,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  don't  know  as  we 
ought  to  refuse  you,  —  on  Bible  grounds," 
and  she  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  disappointed  if 
you  hope  for  an  angel  this  time,"  Dale 
smiled  back  again.  He  was  standing  in  the 
doorway,  and  the  light  from  the  kitchen 
shone  full  in  his  handsome,  boyish  face. 
The  farmer  sighed,  and  leaned  forward  a 
little  as  he  looked  at  him  wistfally.  But 
Martha  Owen  hastened  to  say  that  Doris 
was  going  to  Dunster  in  the  morning  to 
have  the  colt  shod,  and  as  likely  as  not 
would  be  glad  of  company.  The  men  folks 
would  all  be  off  about  the  salt  hay. 

Later  that  evening  Dick  Dale  lay  in  bed 
listening  again  to  the  crickets,  which  kept 
up  a  ceaseless  chirping  about  the  house,  and 
to  the  sober  exclamations  of  the  lonely  sea- 
bird  in  the  low  land,  not  far  away.  The 
window  was  wide  open,  within  reach  of  his 
hand,  and  once  or  twice  he  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow  to  look  up  at  the  stars,  which  were 
gleaming  and  twinkling  in  a  white  host, 
whose  armies  seemed  to  cover  the  sky.  The 
willows  reached  out  their  huge  branches  and 
made  a  small  cloud  of  dense  darkness,  and 


42  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

the  damp  sea  air  was  flavored  with  their 
fragrance  and  that  of  the  newly  mown 
marshes.  There  were  no  sounds,  except 
those  made  by  the  faintly  rustling  leaves 
and  the  small  chirping  creatures,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  stationed  by  the  rural 
neighborhood  as  a  kind  of  night  watchmen 
to  cry,  All 's  well,  and  mark  the  time.  The 
great  loon  was  the  minute-hand,  while  the 
crickets  told  the  seconds  with  incessant  dili- 
gence ;  as  for  the  hours,  they  seemed  so 
much  longer  than  usual  that  whether  a  wind 
or  a  falling  star  announced  their  close  it 
would  be  impossible  to  determine. 

Since  Israel  Owen  had  made  known  the 
history  of  his  dead  son,  the  narrow  chamber 
had  become  much  more  interesting.  The 
present  tenant  of  it  was  usually  given  to 
keeping  late  hours,  but  he  had  offered  no 
objection  when  his  host  suggested  that  it 
was  time  to  go  to  bed,  feeling  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  disregard  the  customs  of 
the  family  that  night,  at  least.  Farmer 
Owen  lingered  a  moment  after  he  gave  the 
young  man  a  candle  in  a  saucer  candlestick, 
;nid  looked  at  him  as  if  he  wished  to  say 
something.  He  was  apparently  unable  to 
suit  himself  with  words,  however,  and  turned 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  43 

away  with  a  cheerful  "  Good-night  to  ye,  my 
lad ; "  but  the  short  silence  was  not  unmean- 
ing. The  candle  had  an  unpleasant  odor, 
and  burned  unevenly,  letting  a  small  tor- 
rent of  its  substance  descend  upon  the  well- 
brightened  brass.  Dick  wondered,  as  he 
stood  before  it  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
if  Mrs.  Owen  would  consent  to  part  with  the 
old  candlestick ;  he  thought  it  would  look 
well  in  the  studio  which  he  occupied  some- 
what irregularly  with  a  friend. 

There  was  a  square  spot  of  glimmering 
white  on  the  blue  homespun  covering  of 
the  bed,  which  proved  to  be  a  garment  of 
primitive  construction,  and  Dick  inspected 
it  with  some  amusement,  until  the  thought 
struck  him  that  it  might  have  been  part  of 
the  wardrobe  of  the  young  soldier.  There 
was  a  mingled  odor  of  camphor  and  herbs, 
as  if  it  were  just  taken  from  a  chest  that 
was  seldom  opened.  After  a  moment's  re- 
flection he  shook  it  outside  the  window,  and 
waved  it  to  and  fro  gently  in  the  mild  night 
air.  Then  he  proceeded  to  make  a  circuit  of 
the  room,  and  held  the  candle  high  while  he 
read  the  lieutenant's  commission.  Dick  had 
been  much  too  young  to  go  to  the  war  him- 
self, though  he  was  thwarted  in  a  fierce  am- 


44  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

bition  to  march  afield  as  drummer-boy,  and 
he  felt  a  curious  interest  in  the  farmer  lad 
to  whom  this  cheap-looking  bit  of  paper  cer- 
tified a  place  in  history.  Only  one  name 
among  thousands,  to  be  sure,  but  a  name 
forever  kept  by  his  country !  A  thrill  went 
through  the  man  who  read.  He  was  much 
older  than  this  Israel  Owen,  but  he  felt 
immeasurably  younger.  There  was  a  dig- 
nity and  pathos  about  the  unused  bedroom, 
though  its  present  occupant  looked  round  it 
next  to  see  if  there  were  anything  else  which 
it  would  be  possible  to  read  for  an  hour.  A 
person  who  was  by  no  means  used  to  early 
hours  could  not  help  feeling  wide  awake  at 
a  little  past  nine.  He  had  given  Farmer 
Owen  his  last  cigar,  as  they  sat  together  in 
the  doorway,  and  was  thankful  it  was  a  good 
one ;  as  for  his  cigarettes,  they  had  failed 
altogether  some  hours  before.  Presently  the 
feeble  candle  was  out,  and  after  the  smoke 
of  it  had  been  blown  away,  and  the  clean, 
quiet  place  seemed  only  a  protected  corner 
of  the  wide,  starlit  world,  he  laughed  a  little 
at  the  unexpectedness  of  the  situation,  and 
then  thought,  with  a  shadow  of  envy,  of 
Doris  and  the  young  man,  and  began  to 
listen  for  the  sound  of  returning  wheels. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  45 

To  -  morrow  would  be  Saturday  ;  he  must 
make  the  most  of  it.  This  would  be  pleas- 
ant enough  to  look  back  upon ;  but  such  a 
thin  pillow  and  thick  bed  were  worse  than 
the  bare  ground.  The  confession  must  be 
made,  however,  that  when  Dan  Lester,  the 
enviable  gallant,  had  helped  his  companion 
to  descend  from  the  new  light  carriage, 
which  had  been  bought  chiefly  with  a  view 
to  her  pleasure,  it  was  only  twenty  minutes 
to  ten  o'clock,  and  Mr.  Richard  Dale  was  al- 
ready sound  asleep. 


IV. 


As  Doris  and  her  cavalier  turned  out  of 
the  yard  and  drove  down  the  road,  they  were 
both  silent  for  a  minute  or  two.  The  evening 
was  very  dark,  and  Doris  lost  all  thought  of 
her  companion  as  she  instinctively  assumed 
a  certain  responsibility  and  kept  watch  be- 
fore her.  In  a  little  while,  however,  her 
strong  eyes  became  independent  of  the  shad- 
ows, and  as  the  horse's  feet  struck  the  smooth 
track  of  the  highway  she  leaned  back  in  the 
carriage,  and  her  attention  became  diverted 
to  the  interests  of  the  occasion.  Dan  Lester 
was  a  dim  figure  at  her  side ;  he  had  seen  his 
way  all  the  time  and  felt  no  uneasiness,  and 
now  turned  to  look  at  Doris  with  entire  sat- 
isfaction. He  knew  perfectly  well  that  noth- 
ing served  his  purpose  better  than  to  be  able 
to  claim  Doris's  companionship  on  the  slight- 
est pretext.  Doris  herself  was  so  shy  of  love- 
makers  that  he  did  not  mean  to  startle  her 
by  any  premature  avowal  of  his  true  affection 
for  her.  This  very  evening  his  heart  gave 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  47 

a  happy  beat,  as  he  told  himself  that  she 
could  not  have  gone  to  the  village  very  well 
without  him ;  indeed,  she  might  have  to  give 
up  more  than  one  pleasure  if  he  were  not 
always  ready  and  glad  to  serve  her ;  some 
day  she  would  surely  find  out  that  she  could 
not  get  along  without  him  any  better  than 
he  could  without  her.  And  the  good  fellow 
leaned  over  and  smoothed  the  lap-robe,  and 
tucked  it  in  more  closely.  Most  of  the 
maidens  whom  he  had  known  were  willing 
to  be  agreeable,  and  to  smile  upon  him  and 
his  attentions,  and  he  was  not  averse  to  be- 
ing smiled  upon ;  but  Doris  Owen's  lack  of 
self -consciousness  and  quiet  dignity  attracted 
him,  and  kept  him  eager  to  follow  and  to  win 
her.  He  could  not  remember  a  time  when 
he  did  not  feel  for  her  a  tenderness  that 
nothing  should  change.  To-night  he  reas- 
sured himself  that  at  last  he  was  able  to 
marry  a  wife  whenever  he  chose,  and  sud- 
denly found  it  more  difficult  than  ever  to 
bide  his  time.  Dan  was  quite  aware  that 
the  neighbors  had  long  ago  ceased  to  feel 
any  excitement  about  so  natural  and  proper 
a  match ;  they  had  talked  it  over  and  over, 
and  settled  his  future  for  him,  and  even 
spoken  to  him  on  the  subject  without  the 


48  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

least  hesitation.  But,  strange  to  say,  in  these 
days,  when  he  continually  told  himself  that 
all  obstacles  had  been  removed,  the  lover 
became  for  the  first  time  disturbed  and  un- 
certain. Doris  was  so  friendly  and  sisterly, 
and  unlike  other  girls  who  thought  of  mar- 
riage. Yet  it  was  not  impossible  that  she 
was  quiet  and  sweet,  and  untroubled  even 
by  love  ;  and  Dan  Lester  grew  scarlet  all  at 
once  in  the  sheltering  darkness,  because  he 
was  possessed  by  an  eager  desire  to  risk  ask- 
ing the  great  question  that  very  night.  Per- 
haps Doris  was  waiting  for  him  to  declare 
himself ;  was  wishing  to  hear  the  words  he 
found  it  so  hard  to  say. 

At  that  instant  the  girl  herself  spoke,  and 
he  was  instantly  possessed  by  a  sense  of  dis- 
appointment ;  there  was  evidently  a  complete 
unconsciousness  of  such  an  exciting  possibil- 
ity. "  I  was  not  sure  that  you  would  come," 
she  said.  "  I  hope  you  did  n't  feel  obliged 
to  keep  the  promise,  if  you  were  tired.  I 
wasn't  counting  on  it  greatly,  and  haying 
is  hard  work." 

Lester  laughed  uneasily.  "  'T  would  take 
more  than  haying  to  beat  me,"  he  answered, 
and  touched  his  horse  unnecessarily  with  the 
whip,  after  which  his  thoughts  returned  to  a 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  49 

subject  which  had  provoked  his  curiosity 
while  he  waited  in  the  farmhouse  yard. 
"  Have  you  had  company  come  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  saw  a  stranger  at  supper  with  the  rest  of 
the  folks." 

Doris  was  glad  to  have  a  new  topic  for 
conversation  suggested.  She  half  feared  that 
it  was  an  unw'elcome  tax  upon  Dan  to  drive 
her  to  the  village  that  evening.  He  was 
unusually  silent,  and  she  had  begun  to  be 
the  least  bit  uncomfortable. 

She  hoped  that  he  would  not  feel  bound 
to  her,  yet  her  woman's  heart  had  become 
aware  that  one  element  in  their  relation  to 
each  other  was  fast  growing  more  conspicuous 
than  any  other;  and  she  had  lately  both 
dreaded  and  enjoyed  being  alone  with  him. 
Dan  had  been  her  brother  Israel's  crony,  and 
was  a  near  neighbor.  It  was  perfectly  nat- 
ural that  he  should  be  at  the  farm  often. 

"Mother  told  me  that  the  young  man's 
name  is  Dale,"  she  answered,  cordially.  "  I 
don't  know  anything  about  him,  except  that 
he  was  painting  a  picture  somewhere  near 
here  to-day,  and  they  forgot  to  come  for  him 
from  Dunster ;  so  he  came  up  to  the  house, 
and  asked  to  stay  over  night.  They  think 
he  looks  a  good  deal  as  Israel  did,"  Doris 

4 


50  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

added  softly.  "  Father  seemed  to  want  him 
to  stay.  I  didn't  like  to  come  away  and 
leave  mother  with  so  much  to  do,  but  this 
morning  she  was  very  anxious  to  get  word  to 
Temp'rance ;  we  were  to  let  her  know  when 
we  began  to  get  the  salt  hay  in.  Mother  said 
a  little  while  ago  that  perhaps  we  'd  better 
let  her  stay  another  day  or  two,  or  go  over 
to-morrow  and  get  her ;  but  I  was  afraid  she 
would  be  all  tired  out.  You  know  what 
mother  is  when  there  's  a  great  deal  extra  to 
do." 

Dan  Lester  eagerly  insisted  that  Doris  had 
done  exactly  right.  He  had  quickly  under- 
stood Mrs.  Owen's  change  of  opinion,  and 
found  it  enough  to  rouse  a  flame  of  jealousy. 
"Temp'rance  has  been  away  most  a  fort- 
night," he  remarked  as  quietly  as  he  could. 
"  She  never  gets  any  rest  over  at  her  sis- 
ter's, any  way." 

He  could  not  be  sufficiently  thankful  that 
Doris  was  not  at  home  that  evening,  being 
suspicious  of  the  unknown  rival,  and  unpleas- 
antly sure  that  Mrs.  Owen  was  filled  with 
ambitions  for  her  daughter's  future  that  over- 
topped and  slighted  his  own  claims.  There 
was  something  ominous  in  the  stranger's  ap- 
pearance at  this  critical  time,  and  poor  Les- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  51 

ter  wished  that  he  were  already  sure  that 
Doris  belonged  to  him ;  he  must  settle  it 
right  away.  But  while  he  tried  to  gain  cour- 
age to  speak  to  her,  Doris,  who  was  in  un- 
commonly good  spirits,  talked  about  one 
every -day  thing  after  another  until  they 
reached  the  minister's  door. 

When  the  choir  -  meeting  was  over,  fate 
would  insist  that  a  cousin,  who  lived  half  a 
mile  or  more  beyond  his  own  house,  should 
ask  to  make  a  third  passenger  homeward  in 
the  new  buggy.  Dan  was  amazingly  ungra- 
cious for  the  first  few  minutes,  but  the  girls, 
who  were  good  friends,  gossiped  together 
serenely  all  the  way. 


THE  various  excitements  of  the  evening 
apparently  exhausted  Mrs.  Owen's  reserve 
fund  of  good-humor,  for  she  came  downstairs 
the  next  morning  looking  older  than  usual 
and  very  despondent.  Her  husband,  on  the 
contrary,  was  in  a  cheerful  frame  of  mind, 
and  even  hummed  a  tune  as  he  waited  for 
his  breakfast.  Whenever  his  companion 
had  occasion  to  go  to  the  kitchen  closet,  just 
behind  the  chair  where  he  sat,  she  gave  a 
deep  and  ostentatious  sigh.  The  farmer  was 
always  an  early  riser,  and  had  already  fed 
the  horses  and  cattle ;  he  asked  now,  with 
mild  interest,  if  none  of  his  assistants  had 
yet  appeared. 

There  was  no  answer  to  such  an  unneces- 
sary question,  and  a  vague  thought  flitted 
through  the  good  man's  mind  that  perhaps 
this  had  been  one  of  the  idle  words  for  which 
he  must  give  account.  It  was  hardly  a  re- 
buke to  himself,  but  rather  a  theological 
view  of  an  unimportant  mistake.  He  still 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  53 

waited  patiently,  giving  his  best  attention  to 
his  interlaced  fingers,  matching  one  thumb 
to  the  other,  and  wondering,  also,  what 
"  mother  "  had  on  her  mind  now.  He  had 
known  these  signs  of  storm  to  precede  even 
so  reasonable  an  event  as  her  going  to  the 
village  to  pay  an  afternoon  visit,  and  a  gen- 
eral overturning  of  affairs  always  preceded 
the  more  serious  enterprise  of  deciding  upon 
new  clothes.  He  assured  himself  that  the 
clouds  were  likely  to  blow  over,  and  smiled 
suddenly  at  his  6wn  philosophy.  It  was 
half-past  five  o'clock ;  the  morning  was  chilly 
and  misty,  and  would  have  promised  to  an 
inland  farmer  anything  but  a  good  hay-day. 

The  smile  reflected  from  his  observation 
of  the  in -door  weather  seemed  to  deepen 
Mrs.  Owen's  sense  of  displeasure.  "  I  'm 
getting  the  breakfast  ready  as  fast 's  I  can," 
she  said,  in  a  most  offended  tone.  "  You 
just  try  to  do  all  your  farm  work  with  one 
pair  o'  hands,  and  see  how  you  make  out." 

"  I  did  n't  know  as  anybody  was  ever  in 
the  habit  of  usin'  two  pair,"  suggested  Israel 
Owen  mildly.  "  None  of  us  is  expected  to 
do  any  more  than  we  can  do.  Don't  over- 
tax yourself,  Marthy,"  he  added,  placidly. 
"  I  declare,  I  don't  know  when  I  Ve  ever 


54  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

been  so  sharp-set  for  breakfast,  though.  I 
think  most  like  it  may  be  on  account  of  the 
weather's  being  cooler.  What's  goin'  on 
with  you  to-day  ?  I  hope  Temp'rance  '11  get 
home  good  an'  early." 

"  'T  will  be  the  first  day  since  she 's  been 
gone  that  she  could  wear  her  new  thick  dress. 
I  told  her  't  was  all  nonsense  to  toil  so  over 
it.  Anybody  might  know  't  was  like  to  be 
too  warm  weather  to  have  any  good  of  such 
a  thick  material.  She  thought  she  'd  have 
it  ready  for  winter  if  she  got  it  done  now, 
in  leisure  time,  before  we  begun  to  get  the 
ina'sh  hay  in.  An'  she  did  n't  have  a  notion 
that  you  would  begin  till  Monday.  I  must 
say  I  hate  to  spoil  her  visit,  sending  and 
getting  of  her  home." 

"  We  're  going  over  on  the  south  ma'sh," 
said  the  farmer,  tilting  his  chair,  "  and  most 
likely  won't  be  back  before  seven  or  eight 
o'clock.  You  might  take  the  old  horse  and 
jog  up  Dunster  way,  and  fetch  Temp'rance 
home  yourself,  —  't  will  be  a  change." 

The  cause  of  Mrs.  Owen's  despondency 
«vas  at  once  apparent,  and  the  discovery  of 
her  plan  seemed  to  excite  great  anger  :  "  I  'd 
just  like  to  know  how  I  'in  going  over  there 
without  a  decent  thing  to  wear  over  my 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  55 

shoulders.  Nobody  would  expect  that  I  be- 
longed to  folks  who  had  means.  I  've  got 
some  pride,  if  you  ain't.  There  's  Temp'r- 
ance's  folks  from  the  West  all  there.  I 
do  consider  they  are  weak  about  dress,  and 
lo'd  on  too  much  of  it  without  respect  to 
occasion  :  but  I  don't  feel  happy  when  I  've 
got  nothin'  to  wear  over  me  except  old 
tilings  that 's  only  fit,  and  ought  by  good 
rights  to  be  took,  for  rug-rags." 

"  They  used  to  tell  a  story  —  I  do'  know 
but  you  've  heard  it  —  about  old  Sergeant 
Copp  an'  his  wife,  that  was  always  quarrel- 
in',"  said  the  farmer,  in  a  tone  of  great  sat- 
isfaction. "  Somebody  heard  her  goin'  on 
one  day.  Says  she,  '  I  do  wish  somebody  'd 
give  me  a  lift  as  fur  as  Westmarket.  I  do 
feel 's  if  I  ought  to  buy  me  a  cap.  I  ain't 
got  a  decent  cap  to  my  back :  if  I  was  to 
die  to-morrow,  I  ain't  got  no  cap  that 's  fit 
to  lay  me  out  in  !  '  4  Blast  ye  !  '  says  he, 
'  why  did  n't  ye  die  when  ye  had  a  cap  ?  "' 

Martha  Owen  tried  to  preserve  her  severe 
expression,  but  began  to  laugh  in  spite  of 
herself,  and  her  companion  knew  that  this 
was  an  end  of  present  discomfort.  "  It 's 
your  own  fault  if  you  an'  Doris  don't  have 
what  you  want  to  wear,"  he  added.  "  I  'm 


56  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

sure  I  always  make  you  free  to  spend  what 
money  you  need,  but  you  're  always  a-suffer- 
in'  for  somethin'." 

"Well,  there,  it's  more  the  trouble  of 
gettin'  clothes  than  anything  else,"  said  the 
good  woman.  "  I  s'pose  I  can  go  over  an' 
get  Temp'rance.  We  '11  have  an  early  din- 
ner soon  as  Doris  gets  back  from  Dunster 
with  the  young  man.  I  shall  have  to  send 
her  off  soon  as  we  get  breakfast  cleared 
away,"  said  the  crafty  mother.  "There 
won't  be  a  bit  of  tea  in  the  house  after  to- 
morrow morning.  We  shall  use  up  a  sight 
with  the  three  men,  and  now  I  suppose  we 
must  keep  this  new  one.  I  don't  know  as 
he  will  make  much  trouble.  They  used  to 
think  Doris  had  a  pretty  taste  for  drawing ; 
perhaps  he  will  give  her  some  lessons." 

"  He  won't  stay  here  long,  at  this  time  of 
the  year,"  said  the  father.  "  We  don't  know 
a  word  about  him,  neither.  I  don't  expect 
there  's  anything  wrong  in  him  ;  he  could  n't 
look  ye  so  straight  in  the  eye.  Doris  ought 
to  be  coming  down  ;  it  ain't  usual  with  her 
to  be  so  behindhand  ;  "  but  at  that  minute 
her  footfall  was  heard  on  the  stairs. 

Israel  Owen's  face  brightened  as  he  saw 
his  daughter.  "  I  thought  't  was  about  time 
for  you,"  he  said  affectionately. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  57 

Doris  looked  up  at  the  clock,  and  then 
smiled  at  him  without  speaking. 

"  I  don't  know  but  quarter  to  six  is  full 
early  enough,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  hired 
men  are  apt  to  take  it  out  in  nooning,  if 
they  don't  loiter  all  through  the  day,  when 
you  try  to  start  'em  out  too  early.  Your 
mother  here  has  been  hard  at  it  since  a  lit- 
tle past  five,  though  ;  "  and  this  seemed  like 
an  attempt  at  reproach. 

If  Mrs.  Owen  had  been  allowed  to  speak 
her  sorrows  first,  she  could  have  made  good 
use  of  the  occasion ;  but  as  it  was,  she  in- 
stantly defended  her  daughter,  though  in  a 
manner  which  let  both  her  companions  un- 
derstand that  Doris  had  something  else  to 
answer  for. 

"  You  could  n't  have  done  anything  until 
now,  unless  it  was  to  open  the  fore-room 
windows  before  the  young  man  comes  down," 
she  said  ;  but  after  a  minute's  reflection  and 
a  glance  at  her  father,  Doris  fell  into  line 
with  the  usual  preparations  for  breakfast, 
and  by  six  o'clock  the  family  had  assembled 
round  the  table.  The  sun  had  broken 
through  the  morning  mists,  and  the  kitchen 
seemed  a  very  comfortable  and  smiling 
place.  The  company  was  much  more  prosaic 


68  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

and  business-like  than  it  had  been  the  even- 
ing before,  at  supper-time,  for  the  beginning 
of  a  busy  day  has  not  the  leisure  that  the 
close  of  it  offers  as  part  of  the  worker's 
reward.  Yet  there  has  been  a  certain 
spirit  of  adventure  at  every  breakfast  table, 
whether  it  were  surrounded  by  knights  who 
were  eager  for  the  tournament,  or  bronze- 
faced  haymakers  ready  to  prove  their  prow- 
ess with  the  armies  of  straight  -  stemmed 
marsh  grasses.  The  evening  ought  to  find 
men  tired,  and  it  may  find  them  disappointed 
and  defeated  ;  in  the  morning  success  seems 
possible,  for  who  knows  the  treasures  and 
surprises  a  new  day  may  hold  in  its  keep- 
ing? 

As  Dick  Dale  came  through  the  clock-room 
he  found  the  damp  morning  air  very  pleas- 
ant. There  was  no  chill ;  only  a  sharp  fresh- 
ness, that  gave  an  additional  spur  to  his 
cheerful  readiness  to  meet  the  world.  The 
old  farmer  had  opened  the  windows  himself, 
and  a  straying  branch  of  the  cinnamon  rose- 
bush outside  had  been  turned  by  the  light 
wind,  and  was  lying  across  one  of  the  win- 
dow sills,  as  if  it  were  eager  to  come  inside. 
The  young  man  crossed  the  room  quickly  as 
he  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  and  paused  for 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  59 

a  minute  on  the  threshold  of  the  kitchen, 
held  by  a  pleased  artistic  sense.  He  had 
become  somewhat  familiar  with  such  rural 
interiors  in  England  and  France,  but  the 
homelike  quality  of  this,  the  picturesque 
grouping  and  good  coloring,  were  a  great 
surprise  and  satisfaction  :  he  noted  the 
bronzed  faces  of  the  men,  the  level  rays  of 
the  pale  sunlight,  the  dull  gleam  of  the  brass 
mountings  of  a  chest  of  drawers  at  the  shaded 
side  of  the  room,  and  the  central  figure  of 
the  girl,  who  brought  a  tall  coffee-pot  with 
both  hands,  as  if  it  were  an  urn  of  classic 
shape.  Her  delicate  features  and  clear  color 
seemed  to  intensify  themselves  as  he  looked, 
—  Doris  would  make  a  picture  by  herself. 
He  must  surely  do  the  best  he  could  at  mak- 
ing a  sketch  of  her. 

Mrs.  Owen  thought  the  guest  was  experi- 
encing an  attack  of  awkwardness,  and  was 
not  sure  of  his  place  at  the  table,  and  at 
once  signified  the  seat  which  had  been  given 
him  the  evening  before.  After  a  few  min- 
utes the  interruption  was  forgotten,  and  the 
regular  progress  of  the  breakfast  went  on,  as 
if  it  had  been  a  brook  into  which  somebody 
had  lately  thrown  a  stone.  Dale  was  half 
amused  and  half  gratified  with  his  new  posi- 


60  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

tion.  He  had  felt  very  much  like  other 
people  until  the  evening  before,  but  so  sensi- 
tive a  nature  was  aware  that  it  had  suddenly 
become  the  most  interesting  fact  to  several 
minds ;  that  he  represented  an  only  half- 
understood  order  of  things,  and  was  looked 
upon  with  mingled  suspicion  and  envy.  It 
was  not  beyond  his  power  to  make  his 
common  humanity  more  apparent  than  the 
difference  in  experience  and  local  values. 
Being,  indeed,  a  man  who  was  not  ruled  by 
the  decorations  of  character,  he  had  a  true 
sympathy  with  his  fellows,  which  gave  him 
the  advantage  of  feeling  at  home  in  almost 
any  place ;  and  with  another  glance  at  Do- 
ris, who  sat  by  his  side  and  next  her  father, 
without  a  word  of  entreaty  to  his  compan- 
ions, he  began  to  lay  the  best  claim  he  could 
to  equal  rights  with  the  rest  of  the  house- 
hold. Busy  Mrs.  Owen  could  hardly  spare 
time  for  her  morning  meal,  and  presently 
bustled  away  into  the  pantry  to  finish  pack- 
ing the  dinner  baskets.  The  farmer  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  next,  and  carried 
the  cider  jug  to  the  cellar,  protesting  that 
he  had  nearly  forgotten  it,  which  made  the 
company  smile ;  and  two  of  the  haymakers 
nodded  at  each  other  and  grinned  a  moment 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  61 

later,  when  they  heard  their  favorite  bever- 
age gurgling  from  its  cask  in  the  depths  be- 
low. Then  they  went  out  together.  There 
were  a  few  reproachful  cries  at  a  restless 
horse,  and  a  hurry  and  clatter  and  general 
excitement  in  the  yard.  The  farmer  came 
back  again  to  the  door  to  say  that  he  should 
have  to  leave  Mr.  Dale  to  the  favor  of  the 
women  folks  ;  but  if  he  felt  like  strolling 
over  to  the  marshes  by  and  by  he  could  find 
a  welcome,  especially  if  it  looked  like  rain. 
The  stranger  himself  laughed  in  response, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  stir  was  over,  and 
quiet  had  again  settled  down  upon  the  house. 
After  a  minute's  hesitation  Dick  wandered 
back  into  the  clock-room,  and  stood  before 
the  sketch  he  had  made  the  day  before. 
This  was  disappointing,  after  all ;  the  little 
birch-tree  was  more  like  a  tree  and  less  like 
Doris  than  he  had  hoped  to  find  it.  Yet  he 
was  not  sure  that  he  felt  exactly  like  going 
on  with  that  bit  of  work ;  perhaps  it  would 
be  better  to  look  about  the  farm,  and  see 
what  he  could  discover  in  the  way  of  sub- 
jects. He  had  found  his  room  at  the  north 
side  of  the  house  a  little  damp  and  cheerless 
that  morning,  and  had  doubted  whether  it 
were  worth  while  to  linger  long  in  this  rural 


62  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

neighborhood  ;  but  all  trace  of  such  want  of 
hardiness  had  been  dispelled  by  his  comfort- 
able breakfast.  It  really  seemed  his  duty 
to  forget  inconveniences  which  could  not  be 
worth  mentioning  beside  those  he  had  en- 
countered elsewhere  in  pursuit  of  his  art. 
One  did  not  happen  upon  such  rich  hunting- 
grounds  every  day,  and  he  gave  a  compla- 
cent glance  at  a  Washington  pitcher  of  most 
rewarding  quality,  which  held  some  durable 
dahlias  and  late  summer  flowers,  on  the  nar- 
row table  under  the  blurred  mirror  in  its 
twisted  frame.  He  was  a  trifle  ashamed  of 
his  grasping  worldliness,  as  he  stood  in  the 
old  room.  The  master  of  the  house  was  most 
attractive ;  he  and  his  daughter  were  of  a 
different  fibre  from  the  other  inmates  of  the 
household.  The  girl  had  a  fine  repose  and 
dignity  of  manner.  She  seemed  equal  to 
her  duties,  but  she  was  grave  and  brooding ; 
like  some  women  whom  he  had  known  among 
the  French  peasants,  with  her  serene  expec- 
tancy and  steadfastness  and  careful  expendi- 
ture of  enthusiasm.  She  was  an  economist 
by  nature,  but  rich  with  power  and  strength, 
the  young  man  thought,  as  he  wondered  if 
there  were  any  one  who  had  the  gift  of 
sounding  the  depths  of  her  faithful  heart. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  63 

He  was  ready  to  read  much  romance  and 
sentiment  between  the  straight,  plain  lines 
of  this  new  character.  Evidently  nothing  of 
any  great  interest  had  happened  to  Doris 
yet,  but  it  could  not  be  possible  that  she  was 
made  only  for  fading  out  and  growing  old, 
undeveloped  by  these  dull  fashions  of  coun- 
try life. 

As  he  went  up  the  broad  green  sloping 
yard  toward  the  orchard,  a  little  later,  Mrs. 
Owen's  voice  reached  him  as  she  sang  a  high 
droning  psalm  tune  behind  the  wilted  scarlet 
runners  of  the  pantry  window.  She  had 
sung  in  the  church  choir  in  her  early  years, 
and  had  agreed  with  her  neighbors  that  her 
gift  was  quite  uncommon;  but  it  was  im- 
possible now  for  the  listener  to  resist  a  smile 
at  some  of  her  ambitious  excursions  among 
the  higher  notes.  She  was  rolling  out  a  new 
supply  of  the  substantial  ginger  cakes  that 
her  dependents  so  much  admired,  and  dough- 
nuts also  must  be  provided  afresh ;  but  she 
noticed  with  pleasure  that  her  guest  was 
going  in  the  same  direction  from  which  Doris 
would  presently  be  returning,  and  rejoiced  to 
think  they  were  sure  to  meet. 

Nothing  would  give  her  daughter  a  better 
suggestion  than  such  an  acquaintance  as  this. 


64  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

It  was  Mrs.  Owen's  darling  project  that 
Doris  should  see  something  of  the  world. 
She  dimly  recognized  that  the  world  had  a 
claim  upon  the  girl's  beauty  and  good  sense, 
and  she  wished  to  hear  her  praised  and  see 
her  take  a  rightful  place.  Her  own  most 
womanly  perception  had  not  been  uncon- 
scious of  young  Dale's  interest  in  her  child's 
good  looks.  Dale  himself  was  pleasant  to 
look  at  ;  young  Israel  Owen  might  have 
truly  been  something  like  him,  if  he  had 
grown  older  under  such  evidently  prosper- 
ous worldly  conditions ;  and  the  tears  started 
to  this  mother's  eyes,  as  she  watched  the 
stranger  out  of  sight.  She  must  ask  him 
some  time  to  give  further  particulars  of  the 
accident  which  had  lamed  him.  He  seemed 
to  have  difficulty  in  using  his  left  foot,  and 
limped  a  good  deal  now  as  he  disappeared 
among  the  old  trees  of  the  orchard.  Pres- 
ently he  came  into  view  again,  this  time 
allured  to  the  family  burying-ground  at  the 
edge  of  the  field.  The  good  woman  could 
see,  as  he  had  seen,  the  faded  color  of  the 
little  flag  which  since  the  last  Decoration 
Day  had  fluttered  in  every  breeze  above  the 
soldier's  grave. 


VI. 

THE  weather  did  what  it  could  to  prosper 
the  dwellers  on  the  Marsh  Island,  and  Dick 
Dale  more  than  once  assured  himself  that  it 
was  too  heavenly  beautiful  for  a  man  to  do 
anything  but  enjoy  life  in  idleness.  There 
was  a  sturdiness  and  royalty  about  the  stout- 
stemmed  fruit-trees.  He  looked  along  de- 
lightful vistas  between  their  rows,  and  when 
he  had  followed  the  hillside  a  short  distance 
he  discovered,  as  he  turned  to  look  behind 
him,  a  view  of  the  farmhouse  roofs  and  chim- 
neys against  the  willows,  with  a  far  distance 
of  shore  and  sea  and  clouds  beyond,  which 
appeared  to  him  of  inestimable  beauty  and 
value.  He  forgot,  as  he  looked  across  the 
country,  that  he  had  ever  known  any  inter- 
est in  existence  save  that  connected  with 
his  paints  and  brushes,  and  would  have  hur- 
ried back  for  the  best  of  them  if  he  had  not 
remembered,  almost  with  impatience,  that 
Doris  would  be  ready  to  drive  him  to  Dunster 
at  eight  o'clock.  It  was  now  a  little  past 

5 


66  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

seven,  and  there  never  had  been  a  better  be- 
ginning of  a  day,  with  such  wealth  of  time 
yet  to  look  forward  to.  If  Dale  had  been  a 
more  energetic  person,  he  might  have  seized 
that  perfection  of  morning  light,  and  made 
sure  of  his  sketch  directly ;  but  he  looked 
back  lovingly  again  and  again  instead,  was 
sorry  that  the  family  plans  seemed  too  im- 
portant and  inevitable  to  be  disarranged,  and 
strolled  on  through  the  open  field.  The 
aftermath  here  was  wet  with  the  heavy  dew 
of  the  night  before,  and  he  kept  to  the  cart 
track,  along  which  the  workmen  had  evidently 
passed  earlier  in  the  day.  One  of  the  ruts 
was  well  trodden  and  much  used  as  a  foot- 
path. He  wondered  whither  it  led :  it  must 
be  to  the  creek,  and  there  was  sure  to  be  a 
fine  view  of  the  marshes  after  one  reached 
the  top  of  the  slope  beyond. 

A  salter  breeze  than  any  he  had  met  blew 
the  drier  grasses  of  the  hill-top,  and  for  his 
lame  foot's  sake  he  stopped,  and  then  looked 
about  eagerly.  A  wide,  low  country  stretched 
away  northward  and  eastward,  with  some  pale 
blue  hills  on  its  horizon.  The  marshes  looked 
as  if  the  land  had  been  raveled  out  into  the 
sea,  for  the  tide  creeks  and  inlets  were  brim- 
ful of  water,  and  some  gulls  were  flashing 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  67 

their  wings  in  the  sunlight,  as  if  they  were 
rejoiced  at  the  sight  of  the  sinking  and  con- 
quered shore.  The  far-away  dunes  of  white 
sand  were  bewildering  to  look  at,  and  their 
shadows  were  purple  even  at  that  distance. 
One  might  be  thankful  that  he  had  risen 
early  that  morning,  and  had  climbed  a  hill 
to  see  the  world.  Far  away  the  haymaking 
was  going  on.  In  another  direction  some  old 
haystacks  looked  soft  and  brown ;  and  then 
Dale  discovered  a  second  group  of  men  float- 
ing down  the  creeks,  and  was  puzzled  to 
know  which  were  his  friends.  He  felt  like 
a  leaf  that  drifts  down  a  slow  stream ;  he 
grew  serenely  contented  in  his  delight,  and 
dared  to  look  the  August  sun  full  in  its  face, 
and  then  threw  a  stone  with  all  his  might  at 
a  bird  that  flew  by.  He  blinked  his  dazzled 
eyes  angrily  because  he  could  not  tell  whether 
the  shot  had  been  of  any  avail,  and  then 
laughed  at  himself,  and  felt  like  a  boy  on  a 
stolen  holiday.  Just  then  he  heard  a  noise 
of  heavy  footsteps,  and  behind  some  bushes, 
farther  along  the  path  he  had  been  following, 
he  was  surprised  to  see  Doris  approaching, 
walking  quickly  beside  two  farm  horses, 
whose  harness  was  hanging  about  them,  un- 
fastened and  clinking  as  they  came.  She 


68  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

was  holding  the  near  horse  by  his  bit,  and 
leaned  backward  to  check  the  honest  crea 
tures,  who  were  impatient  to  finish  their 
breakfasts.  The  color  flickered  more  brightly 
in  her  cheeks  as  she  saw  Dale,  and  watched 
him  eagerly  come  down  the  slope  to  meet  her. 
The  clumsy  horses  were  filled  with  the 
spirit  and  excitement  of  the  clear  morning, 
and  were  ready  to  take  advantage  of  any  ex- 
cuse for  prancing  a  little.  They  raised  their 
heads  and  looked  at  the  stranger,  and  the  off 
horse  capered  at  the  sight;  the  dangling 
harness  struck  them  unexpectedly,  and  their 
slender  teamster  was  suddenly  in  danger. 
At  least,  Dale  thought  so,  and  hastened  to 
the  rescue.  Doris  lost  sight  of  him,  but 
presently  had  the  horses  well  in  hand  again, 
and  a  moment  afterward  she  was  shocked  to 
see  the  painter  try  to  get  up  from  the  turf. 
He  had  stumbled  and  fallen  ignominiously, 
but  looked  pale,  as  if  he  were  really  hurt. 
The  conquered  horses  stood  still  now,  at  the 
girl's  command.  They  were  docile  creatures, 
of  great  experience,  who  would  stand  in  the 
hot  sunshine  all  day,  or  follow  the  long  spring 
furrows  without  impatience.  They  would 
not  have  struck  their  young  mistress  for  all 
the  cracked  corn  in  the  bin,  and  waited  now, 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  69 

looking  after  her  uneasily  as  she  went  toward 
the  stranger. 

"  It  is  only  this  confounded  ankle  of 
mine  !  "  growled  Dale.  "  I  believe  I  never 
shall  get  it  strong ;  "  and  though  he  felt  more 
and  more  disgusted  and  ashamed  of  himself 
and  wished  he  were  a  thousand  miles  away, 
an  unpleasant  faintness  was  creeping  over 
him.  No,  he  would  not  be  such  a  baby ! 
But  at  this  point  the  bright  sky  turned  black, 
he  felt  the  ground  lift  itself  up  and  the  short 
grass  prick  his  cheek,  and  there  was  a  pause 
altogether. 

Only  a  minute  went  by  before  life  resumed 
its  course,  and  he  opened  his  eyes,  quite  a 
languid  and  white-faced  person  now,  instead 
of  the  stalwart  admirer  of  the  country  who 
had  come  up  the  hill.  "  You  had  better  lie 
still  a  little  while,"  said  Doris  softly.  He 
need  not  have  felt  such  a  sense  of  inferiority 
and  silliness,  for  her  face  was  very  sober  and 
distressed.  The  horses  had  become  totally 
indifferent  to  their  surroundings,  except  as 
they  tried  to  brush  away  a  fly  now  and  then. 
Dale  sat  up  presently,  and  leaned  his  head 
on  one  hand  while  he  felt  his  disabled  ankle 
with  the  other,  and  then  tied  his  handkerchief 
tightly  about  it.  He  felt  sorry  it  was  not 


70  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

the  clean  one  which  he  had  filled  with  mush- 
rooms the  day  before  ;  this  looked  miserably 
the  worse  for  wear.  Somehow,  he  never 
could  remember  to  beg  for  paint  rags  before 
he  started  out  for  a  day's  sketching. 

Doris  looked  on  compassionately.  She 
was  standing  close  beside  him,  and  he  was 
sure  she  had  stooped  to  take  off  his  hat,  which 
had  been  uncomfortably  misplaced  over  his 
eyes  as  he  lay  down  ;  but  she  had  not  lifted 
his  head  on  her  arm,  or  behaved  at  all  as 
maidens  do  when  their  lovers,  or  even  their 
friends,  faint  in  the  story-books.  He  was 
obliged  to  confess  that  she  was  very  sensible 
and  very  kind,  however,  and  that  she  looked 
sorry  for  him. 

"  I  shall  be  all  right  directly,"  he  said, 
with  his  best  smile.  "I  must  insist  that  I 
haven't  fainted  before  since  I  was  a  boy. 
Could  you  ask  "  — and  Dale  hesitated :  there 
was  nobody  at  the  farmhouse  save  Mrs.  Owen. 
"  Can  you  get  me  a  stick,  do  you  think,  so 
that  I  can  hobble  back  to  the  house?" 

"  I  will  come  back  and  help  you,  if  you 
will  wait  right  here  for  me,"  said  the  girl, 
flushing  slightly,  while,  leading  the  horses 
the  side  of  the  path,  she  sprang  upon  the 
back  of  the  nearer  one,  and  went  jolting 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  71 

toward  the  barns  with  entire  composure. 
She  was  apparently  familiar  with  this  un- 
comfortable mode  of  travel ;  she  did  not  turn 
her  head,  though  Dale  turned  his,  and  saw 
her  strike  first  the  leader  and  then  his  mate 
with  the  end  of  the  heavy  leather  reins.  He 
wondered  if  she  would  not  be  hurt  against 
the  low  boughs  of  the  old  apple-trees ;  he 
had  been  obliged  to  stoop  more  than  once  as 
he  had  walked  under  them.  It  was  very  odd 
that  he  should  have  been  talking  nonsense 
to  himself  the  night  before  about  being  in- 
valided upon  the  Marsh  Island.  Somehow, 
the  reality  was  not  so  pleasant,  and  he  felt 
like  a  shipwrecked  sailor,  and  unwontedly 
destitute  at  that.  He  could  not  go  to  Dunster 
now ;  perhaps  he  must  ask  Doris  to  bring  a 
doctor.  This  was  a  dismal  end  to  his  trium- 
phant morning;  but  his  ankle  was  in  a 
wretched  way,  and  with  an  angry  cry  of  mis- 
ery, which  nothing  would  have  forced  from 
him  had  he  not  been  alone,  he  seized  it  with 
both  hands,  and  soliloquized  at  intervals 
until  Doris  reappeared.  Even  in  his  suffering 
condition  he  felt  a  great  joy,  because  she  ran 
so  lightly  and  so  fast,  as  not  one  woman  in 
ten  thousand  can  run,  with  fleet-footed  di- 
rectness and  grace.  She  was  slow,  she  her- 


72  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

self  thought,  —  she  had  been  afraid  that  he 
might  faint  again  ;  and  when  she  reached 
his  side,  and  Dale  leaned  upon  her  firm  arm 
and  stopped  to  break  a  stick  from  a  wild- 
cherry  thicket,  she  thought  him  uncomplain- 
ing and  even  heroic.  She  was  much  dis- 
turbed, but  the  painter  thought  her  very 
placid  and  quite  motherly  in  her  attentions 
and  feeling  toward  him.  She  was  a  soulless 
creature,  after  all;  beautiful  to  look  at  as 
a  fawn  and  unconscious  as  a  flower,  but  as 
a  human  being  utterly  commonplace.  The 
confession  must  be  made  that  when  they 
reached  the  hot  kitchen,  and  Dale  deposited 
himself  wearily  in  a  padded  rocking-chair, 
which  he  wished  to  be  out  of  directly,  Mrs. 
Owen  was  much  more  equal  to  the  occasion 
in  her  expressions  of  sympathy  than  her 
daughter  had  been.  "For  mercy's  sake, 
Doris,"  she  demanded,  "  why  did  n't  you 
slip  one  of  the  hosses  into  the  old  wagon,  and 
not  make  Mr.  Dale  walk  all  the  way  ?  He 
may  have  het  up  the  bone  so  't  will  be  stiff 
as  a  stake."  But  Doris  looked  so  convicted 
and  distressed  that  Dick  announced  gallantly 
his  complete  repugnance  to  being  cruelly 
jolted  over  the  uneven  surface  of  a  hillside 
field. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  73 

Dan  Lester  was  happily  unconscious  of 
the  devotion  which  was  spent  upon  his  rival 
that  day  at  the  farmhouse.  The  family  doc- 
tor was  seen  coming  along  the  road,  and  was 
called  in  with  great  eagerness.  He  looked 
at  his  patient  with  much  surprise,  and  rec- 
ognized him  as  having  sometimes  been  a 
guest  at  one  of  the  fine  houses  on  the  shore, 
at  the  other  extremity  of  his  range  of  prac- 
tice. The  doctor  had  served  as  surgeon  in 
the  army  during  the  war,  and  was  a  man  of 
excellent  acquirements  and  quick  percep- 
tions. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before,  I  think,  at  Mrs. 
Winchester's,  Mr.  Dale  ?  "  he  said  carelessly, 
when  the  bandage  had  fallen  short,  and  Mrs. 
Owen  had  hurried  away  with  thumping  foot- 
steps for  more  old  cotton.  "  It  was  when  a 
little  grandson  of  hers  had  a  bad  fall  in  the 
stable,"  he  explained,  holding  the  strip  of 
cloth  with  firm  fingers. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick  Dale  uneasily.  "  I 
thought  I  had  seen  you.  If  you  run  across 
any  of  my  people,  don't  speak  of  my  being 
here.  I  stopped  to  make  a  sketch  or  two, 
and  meant  to  be  away  to-day.  I  have  prom- 
ised to  visit  my  aunt  later  in  the  season,"  he 
added  more  boldly.  He  was  unaccustomed 


74  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

to  apologizing  for  his  plans,  and  wondered, 
as  he  spoke,  why  he  felt  now  a  little  at  odds 
with  propriety. 

The  doctor  nodded,  and  seemed  indisposed 
to  criticise  the  deeds  of  any  young  man,  es- 
pecially an  artist.  "You  could  not  find  a 
more  picturesque  bit  of  country,"  he  said, 
with  considerable  enthusiasm.  "  There  were 
two  or  three  artists  staying  at  the  east  vil- 
lage in  June.  I  dare  say  they  might  have 
been  friends  of  yours." 

Mrs.  Owen  had  returned  with  a  stout  roll 
of  linen  and  a  damaged  sheet,  which  she  of- 
fered submissively  for  inspection.  "There's 
plenty  more  where  this  come  from,"  she  an- 
nounced, a  little  out  of  breath ;  and  the  doc- 
tor smilingly  responded  that  she  had  better 
not  let  any  of  the  hospitals  hear  of  her; 
they  were  always  beggared  for  want  of  such 
things. 

"  Will  he  be  laid  up  a  good  while,  do  you 
suppose  ?  "  she  asked  the  hurried  surgeon, 
with  a  shade  of  anxiety,  as  she  followed  him 
to  the  door,  and  hardly  knew  whether  she 
was  most  relieved  or  disappointed  when  the 
doctor  answered  that  this  sprain  was  only 
slight ;  it  was  a  miserable  weak  ankle  ;  the 
fellow  had  used  it  too  soon  after  the  first  in- 
jury. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  75 

The  morning  went  by  slowly,  and  Dale 
grew  more  and  more  dissatisfied  and  impa- 
tient with  himself.  He  had  heard  the  doc- 
tor's verdict  upon  his  case,  and  did  not  anti- 
cipate any  long  delay ;  but  his  foot  ached 
badly,  and  the  bandage  felt  tight  and  bun- 
gling, though  it  looked  so  smooth  and  irre- 
proachable. He  had  been  established  in  a 
high -backed  wooden  rocking-chair  in  the 
clock-room,  with  his  lame  foot  on  another 
chair,  cushioned  by  a  small  and  fluffy  pillow, 
with  a  cover  so  long  that  it  drooped  to  the 
floor  and  looked  like  a  baby's  skimpy-frock. 
He  was  left  to  himself  for  a  time.  Doris 
was  going  to  Dunster  without  him,  and 
would  bring  back  Temperance  Kipp,  the 
maid  servant,  and  his  own  portmanteau. 
Dale  could  see  her  in  the  yard  harnessing 
a  horse  into  a  light  wagon.  Presently  her 
mother  joined  her,  looking  heated  from  her 
work  in  the  kitchen.  She  was  a  fine,  straight 
woman  for  her  years,  a  most  kind  creature, 
the  young  man  thought  gratefully,  and 
smiled  as  he  heard  her  tell  Doris  what  the 
doctor  had  said,  and  add  that  the  disabled 
foot  was  as  soft  and  white  as  a  child's.  Do- 
ris seemed  impatient  to  be  off.  The  young 
horse  she  drove  was  impatient,  also,  and 


76  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

whirled  the  wagon  round  a  corner  of  the 
yard  and  down  the  road.  Dale  leaned  for- 
ward to  see  better.  Doris  looked  quickly 
up  at  the  window,  and  their  eyes  exactly 
met ;  the  next  moment  she  was  hidden  by 
the  willow  boughs,  but  it  was  so  still  about 
the  farm  that  the  sound  of  wheels  could  be 
heard  for  some  minutes. 

Mrs.  Owen  looked  in,  every  little  while, 
and  always  said  that  they  were  going  to 
have  a  regular  dog -day.  The  tall  clock 
ticked  excitedly,  as  if  it  were  not  pleased 
with  this  intrusion  upon  its  own  apartment. 
The  county  paper  lay  upon  the  table  under 
the  looking-glass,  with  the  Massachusetts 
Ploughman  and  the  semi -weekly  Tribune, 
which  Dale  selected  with  satisfaction.  Af- 
ter looking  over  its  pages  with  sad  quick- 
ness, he  made  use  of  it  to  beat  away  the  flies 
which  were  flocking  in  from  the  kitchen. 
Mrs.  Owen  had  unguardedly  left  the  door 
half  open,  and  they  seemed  eager  to  prove 
the  truth  of  her  repeated  statement  about 
the  weather.  From  his  seat  by  the  window 
he  could  see  the  hillside  and  the  orchard, 
with  the  small,  pathetic  crowd  of  gray  and 
white  headstones  in  the  family  burying-place. 
One  might  fancy  that  these  stones  were  a 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  77 

sort  of  prosaic  disguise,  under  which  the 
former  dwellers  in  the  old  farmhouse  stood 
apart  together  to  watch  and  comment  gloom- 
ily upon  their  descendants.  The  faded  lit- 
tle flag  alone  signified  any  active  interest. 
There  was  a  kind  of  hopeful  beckoning  and 
inspiration  about  its  slight  movements  and 
flutterings. 

In  the  dullest  of  the  morning  hours  Dick 
was  assured  that  he  must  communicate  with 
his  aunt,  and  make  use  of  her  hospitality. 
Later,  he  reflected  that,  however  reasonable 
such  an  arrangement  might  appear,  it  would 
be  also  a  great  bore.  The  house  was  always 
well  filled  at  this  time  of  the  summer.  There 
was  sure  to  be  a  flock  of  his  aunt's  grand- 
children, and  they  were  noisy  and  clamorous 
enough  if  a  man  were  well,  and  he  was  not 
disposed  to  put  himself  at  their  mercy  now, 
confounded  little  beggars !  They  were  all 
extremely  fond  of  him,  and  hitherto  he  had 
returned  their  affection  with  a  more  or  less 
spasmodic  warmth.  Dick  jerked  his  shoul- 
ders suddenly,  as  if  a  first-cousin,  once  re- 
moved, had  unsympathetically  tried  to  climb 
upon  them.  He  would  wait  a  day  or  two, 
and  see  how  the  ankle  got  on;  indeed,  he 


78  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

had  often  spent  a  week  or  two  in  a  duller 
place  than  this.  But  he  wondered  idly, 
more  than  once,  if  it  were  not  time  for  Do- 
ris to  be  at  home  again. 


VII. 

MEANWHILE  work  was  going  forward  on 
the  marshes.  There  had  been  some  delay 
in  transporting  the  crew  of  men ;  the  great 
hay-boat,  which  had  not  been  used  before  for 
some  months,  was  stranded  high  and  dry  on 
the  shore  at  the  side  of  the  creek.  It  had 
been  well  beached,  and  put  as  far  out  of 
reach  of  the  spring  tides  as  possible,  lest  it 
should  float  off  across  the  shallow  sea  which 
covered  the  meadows,  and  be  either  wrecked 
or  take  up  its  residence  inconveniently  far 
inland.  The  same  spring  tide,  however,  had 
revenged  itself  for  the  loss  of  its  prey  by 
giving  the  heavy  boat  a  lift  and  a  push  which 
made  it  swing  about  and  tug  at  its  moorings 
from  the  opposite  direction.  Finally,  when 
the  waters  receded  from  their  unnatural  van- 
tage ground,  the  craft  settled  down  heavily, 
with  its  bow  toward  the  deep  channel ;  and 
when  the  huckleberry  and  bayberry  bushes 
waked  up  a  little  later,  they  struggled  and 
bent  their  twigs  under  a  weight  and  obscu- 


80  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

rity  equal  to  a  land-slide,  and  concluded  that 
it  was  not  spring  yet,  after  all. 

The  farmer  had  met  such  hindrances  he- 
fore,  and  had  laid  some  persuasive  rollers  in 
the  way  to  the  water,  and  the  launch  was 
achieved  in  the  early  August  morning  with 
little  difficulty,  though  with  the  aid  of  much 
shouting  at  the  horses  from  Jim  Fales,  be- 
side vigorous  pushing  from  all  the  haymak- 
ers. The  tide  was  in,  and  the  stupid-looking 
square  hay-boat  floated  lightly,  with  a  some- 
what coquettish  air  of  being  in  its  element, 
while  the  displaced  water  splashed  among 
the  coarse  grass  of  the  shore.  A  weather- 
beaten  dory  was  brought  up  and  fastened  at 
the  hay-boat's  stern  ;  the  farmer  was  care- 
fully putting  his  scythes  and  pitchforks  on 
board.  One  of  the  men  fastened  the  horses 
to  a  small  maple-tree,  which  they  browsed 
industriously.  Doris  was  to  come  presently 
to  drive  them  back  to  the  barn. 

Jim  Fales  had  worked  furiously  to  aid  the 
launching  of  the  hay-boat,  and  now  stood 
contemplating  it  with  some  scorn.  "Ain't 
she  got  a  sassy  bow  ? "  he  remarked  deri- 
sively. "  I  don't  know 's  I  ever  see  one  that 
was  built  more  awk'ard.  'T  was  one  o'  old 
Lester's  make,  wa'n't  it?  His  was  all  the 
same  pattern." 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  81 

"  You  take  right  holt  now,  ray  son,  and 
help  git  these  tools  aboard,"  said  Israel  Owen 
serenely.  "  We  're  belated  more  'n  I  wish 
we  was  a'ready.  An'  Lester's  bo'ts  are 
pretty  much  all  afloat  in  the  ma'shes  now, 
while  those  that  have  been  made  since  are 
mostly  split  or  rotten.  He  put  good  stuff 
into  'em,  and  they  carry  well,  a  good  load 
and  well  set,  if  they  be  square-nosed." 

"  We  '11  all  be  drownded,  sure  's  fate.  I 
guess  I  'd  better  step  along  on  the  bank," 
laughed  the  young  man  ;  "  she  's  leakin' 
like  a  sieve." 

"  Give  her  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  water 
and  she  '11  be  as  dry  as  a  cup,"  said  the  far- 
mer. "  I  know  her.  But  run  along  ashore 
if  you  feel  skeary,  James,"  as  the  youngster 
leaped  lightly  over  the  side.  The  other  men 
smiled  indulgently.  Jim  Fales  was  a  good 
fellow,  whose  faults  were  those  of  youth  and 
self-confidence.  He  was  thin  and  light,  quick 
as  a  flash,  and  apt  to  work  beyond  his 
strength  in  boyish  bravado.  He  was  em- 
ployed at  men's  wages  for  the  first  time  this 
summer,  and  had  proved  himself  worthy  to 
enter  the  lists  at  any  sort  of  farm -work, 
though  some  of  his  comrades  could  not  help 
wondering  how  he  would  hold  out.  He  was 


82  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

frequently  designated  as  the  Grasshopper, 
and  was  worth  at  least  half  his  pay  for  his 
good  spirits  and  the  amusement  he  afforded 
his  associates. 

One  would  have  thought  that  the  boat's 
builder  had  measured  the  width  of  the  creek 
before  he  kid  her  timbers,  and  then  left  very 
little  room  on  either  side.  The  complication 
which  would  be  involved  by  one  hay-boat's 
meeting  another  in  the  deep  and  narrow 
channels  of  the  marsh  can  hardly  be  pictured, 
unless,  indeed,  the  crews  were  amicably 
transferred.  At  some  distance,  however,  a 
broader  inlet  was  shining  in  the  morning 
sunlight,  and  another  boat  and  its  company 
presently  emerged  from  behind  a  point  of 
the  Marsh  Island,  and  floated  placidly  away 
to  the  eastward. 

"There  goes  Bennet's  folks,"  said  Mr. 
Jenks.  "  They  're  late  this  morning,  too," 
and  Jim  Fales  and  Allen,  who  were  poling, 
doubled  their  diligence,  and  made  haste  to 
signify  their  presence  by  loud  and  echoing 
outcries. 

Farmer  Owen  had  seated  himself  on  the 
broad  gunwale  of  his  valued  boat,  leaning 
forward,  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and 
his  brown  hands  clasped  together  before  him. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  83 

Sometimes  the  tall  sedges  brushed  the  faded 
cambric  back  of  his  waistcoat,  and  once  Mr. 
Jenks  reached  out  and  cut  two  or  three  cat- 
tails with  his  great  jack-knife,  and  selecting 
the  largest  proceeded  to  trim  it,  and  then 
stuck  it  in  a  small  auger  hole  in  the  stern, 
where  it  looked  like  the  mockery  of  a  mast. 
For  some  distance  the  faded  square  of  yel- 
low was  visible  where  the  boat  had  lain  on 
the  sloping  bank  ;  it  made  a  surprisingly  at- 
tractive point  in  the  landscape,  and  Farmer 
Owen  said  once,  as  he  looked  at  it,  that  the 
growth  underneath  would  be  likely  to  think 
there  was  an  early  fall.  There  had  been  no 
such  high  tides  for  ten  years  as  the  spring 
before,  when  Lester's  masterpiece  had  been 
drifted  so  far  ashore. 

As  they  neared  a  point  half-way  to  the 
south  marsh,  a  young  man  was  seen  stand- 
ing there,  waiting,  a  solitary  figure  on  the 
low  shore.  This  was  Dan  Lester,  who,  as 
the  hay-boat  approached,  took  a  flying  leap 
and  landed  in  what  might  be  called  the  hold, 
making  a  great  splash  in  the  six  or  seven 
inches  of  water,  which  seemed  to  disconcert 
neither  him  nor  anybody  else. 

"  I  'd  better  have  fetched  a  mallet  and 


84  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

spike  along,  and  caulked  up  this  convey- 
ance," he  said  soberly,  with  an  inward  sense 
of  the  scrutiny  of  Jim  Fales's  curious  eyes. 
His  mind  was  not  at  ease,  and  he  tried  to 
behave  exactly  as  usual,  without  entire  suc- 
cess. 

"  I  guess  't  will  be  the  end  o'  the  leakage 
now,"  Israel  Owen  announced,  after  a  won- 
dering though  brief  look  at  this  new  mem- 
ber of  the  crew.  "  The  sides  are  tight,  and 
*t  was  only  the  bottom  planks  that  had  shrunk 
a  grain,  same  's  they  do  every  year.  She  '11 
be  dry  enough  if  she  lays  out  in  this  sun  till 
evenin'." 

The  fresh  morning  wind  ruffled  the  sur- 
face of  the  tide  river  and  tossed  about  the 
foliage  on  the  shore,  lifting  the  leaves  and 
varying  their  shades  of  green  skillfully.  As 
the  boat  slowly  rounded  a  point  covered  with 
underbrush,  Lester  saw  a  late  wild  rose  al- 
most within  reach  of  his  hand,  and  with  the 
sudden  thought  of  Doris  that  was  always 
linked  in  his  mind  with  anything  beautiful 
he  tried  to  catch  and  break  the  twig.  But 
he  had  been  carried  just  too  far  beyond,  and 
almost  fell  over  into  the  water.  The  other 
men  laughed,  and  he  joined  them  a  little  rue- 
fully, and  watched  the  flower,  as  if  the  loss 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  85 

of  it  foretold  his  fate.  He  had  known  the 
misery  and  anxiety  of  an  unassured  lover  the 
night  before.  He  had  never  until  now  been 
really  uncertain  or  in  such  desperate  earnest 
about  winning  Doris,  and  was  shaken  and 
hurt  by  his  sleeplessness  and  fears.  Dan 
was  a  model  of  health  and  vigor.  Like  men 
of  his  nature,  he  could  ill  bear  suffering  of 
any  sort,  but  he  was  supported  this  morning 
by  a  noble  instinct  of  heroism.  He  would 
die  hard  before  he  let  himself  betray  the  lack 
of  courage  that  he  sometimes  felt.  If  Doris 
knew  how  troubled  he  was  for  her  sake,  she 
could  not  help  thinking  that  he  deserved  her 
love.  Poor  fellow !  sometimes  he  needed  her 
tender  pity  almost  as  much. 

But  saucy  Jim  Fales,  with  his  quick, 
shrewd  eyes,  had  dared  to  tell  him  that  he 
looked  afflicted,  and  was  begging  him  to 
give  the  reason.  It  was  a  preposterous  fa- 
vor to  ask,  under  the  circumstances,  and 
Jim  seemed  quite  abominable.  Lester  was 
quick-tempered,  and  found  himself  growing 
very  angry,  although  it  would  never  do  to 
wage  open  war  against  the  youngster.  Mr. 
Owen  was  already  looking  benignly  at  the 
faces  of  his  companions,  as  if  he  were  be- 
coming conscious  of  the  presence  of  some 
interest  hu  did  not  understand. 


86  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

They  were  so  far  away  now  from  the 
farm  that  it  showed  its  whole  outline  and 
extent  from  that  eastern  point  of  view.  The 
hill  which  Dick  Dale  thought  a  good  look- 
out had  lowered  itself,  and  was  only  a  bare, 
unsheltered  pasture  upland.  Israel  Owen 
could  read  at  a  glance  all  the  slopes  and 
hollows  of  the  woodland  and  fields  of  the 
neighboring  country,  and  surveyed  with 
pleasure  his  own  sound  fences  and  the  tops 
of  his  fruit-trees,  which  showed  themselves 
over  the  crest  of  the  island  as  if  they  were 
trying  to  see  what  was  on  the  seaward  side. 

The  tide  was  full ;  the  lines  of  the  creeks 
made  a  broad  tracery  whichever  way  one 
looked.  Northward  and  southward  from 
the  Marsh  Island  the  great  reaches  of  the 
Sussex  marshes  spread  themselves  level  and 
green,  while  the  nearer  hills  of  the  inland 
country  were  bronzed  and  autumn-like,  and 
the  distant  ones  were  blue  in  the  morning 
haze.  The  sea-birds  overhead  were  crying 
and  calling,  as  if  they  besought  the  salt-hay 
makers  to  fly  away  with  them,  like  reluctant 
nestlings  of  their  own. 

The  outlying  portion  of  Israel  Owen's 
property,  toward  which  he  was  voyaging, 
was  a  low  bit  of  the  sea  country.  Even 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  87 

this  not  unusual  tide  was  submerging  its 
borders,  and  most  of  the  grass  must  be  taken 
away  to  be  spread  and  dried  elsewhere. 
The  old  farmer  with  Dan  Lester  went  apart 
from  the  other  workmen,  and  all  began  to 
mow  as  fast  as  possible,  so  that  a  good  por- 
tion of  the  crop  might  be  put  into  the 
boat,  ready  to  carry  away  when  the  tide 
should  be  high  again,  in  the  evening.  The 
men  stepped  forward  diligently ;  the  tall 
grasses  fell  before  their  enemies,  rank  after 
rank.  The  tide  held  itself  bravely  for  a 
time :  it  had  grasped  the  land  nobly ;  all 
that  great  weight  and  power  were  come  in 
and  had  prevailed.  It  shone  up  at  the  sky ; 
and  laughed  in  the  sun's  face ;  then  changed 
its  mind,  and  began  to  creep  away  again. 
It  would  rise  no  more  that  morning,  but 
at  night  the  world  should  wonder !  So  the 
great  sea,  forsaking  its  purpose,  slid  back 
out  of  the  narrow  creeks  and  ditches,  leav- 
ing them  black  and  deep,  with  the  green 
sedge  drooping  over  their  edges  ;  and  at  mid- 
day the  sun  was  fierce  and  hot,  and  the  hay- 
makers brought  the  small  sail  of  the  dory, 
and  made  a  tent-like  shelter  of  it  with  their 
pitchforks,  and  were  ready  for  their  nooning. 
"  I  declare  I  don't  know  's  it  was  ever  hot- 


88  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

ter  than  this  any  of  the  hot  days  I  've  seen 
in  my  time,"  said  the  farmer.  "  Doris  had 
a  notion  yisterday  that 't  would  be  better  for 
her  to  bring  over  the  dinner  at  noontime ; 
she  thought  she  could  slip  down  the  west 
crick  in  her  small  bo't,  if  't  was  low  water ; 
but  I  'in  glad  she  didn't."  The  younger  men 
gave  each  other  a  sly  look ;  they  would  have 
enjoyed  such  a  visit  in  the  midst  of  their 
dull  work.  Some  evil  spirit  suggested  to 
Jim  Fales  that  it  would  be  good  fun  to  tease 
Dan  Lester. 

"  Doris  !  "  he  exclaimed  contemptuously. 
"  She  '11  be  all  taken  up  with  the  city  swell, 
I  expect ;  she  won't  have  no  time  to  spare 
for  country  folks.  Perhaps  she  '11  fetch  him 
along  over  here  in  her  dory,  long  towards 
night  when  it  gits  cooler,  to  make  a  picture 
of  us." 

"  He  looks  like  my  boy  Isr'el,"  said  Farm- 
er Owen,  unexpectedly.  "  She 's  going  to 
take  him  in  to  Dunster  to  git  his  trunk,  — • 
Doris  is.  Mis'  Owen,  she's  calc'latin'  to 
accommodate  him  for  a  spell."  And  one  of 
the  haymakers,  who  had  been  hungry  enough 
the  moment  before,  put  down  what  would 
have  been  his  next  mouthful  as  if  the  bread 
were  a  stone.  Jim  Fales  whistled  at  the 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  89 

sight,  and  the  lover  shot  a  fierce  glance  at 
him.  What  a  fool  he  was  making  of  him- 
self, he  thought  piteously,  the  next  minute, 
and  tried  to  go  on  with  his  lunch.  Mrs. 
Owen  was  a  capital  cook  and  provider,  but 
Lester  wondered  how  he  could  dispose  of 
his  share,  while  young  Fales  ventured  to 
say  satirically  that  he  thought  he  had  seen 
a  snake ;  and  being  wonderingly  answered 
by  the  proprietor  that  they  were  never  com- 
mon on  the  south  marsh,  held  his  peace. 

Some  of  the  men  stretched  themselves 
out  for  a  nap,  and  Dan  Lester  feigned  to 
copy  their  example ;  but  when  he  left  his 
hard  couch,  a  little  later,  to  join  his  em- 
ployer, it  was  with  sullen,  tired  eyes,  and  a 
determination  to  ask  Doris's  father  a  solemn 
question. 

Farmer  Owen  had  apparently  taken  no 
notice  of  Jim  Fales's  ostentatious  discovery 
of  the  reptile,  nor  of  the  personal  character 
of  the  talk,  but  Dan  Lester  looked  dark, 
and  muttered  as  if  he  were  a  strayed  thun- 
der-cloud. A  light  breeze  had  risen,  and  the 
stillness  of  the  unusual  heat  was  over  with, 
but  the  young  man  grew  flushed  and  warm, 
and  stood  holding  his  scythe  as  if  it  were  an 


90  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

aggressive  weapon,  while  he  fanned  himself 
with  his  frayed  straw  hat.  He  was  a  hand- 
some fellow,  dark  and  thin  and  straight, 
with  a  suggestion  of  French  blood  in  his 
remote  ancestry.  A  pair  of  honest  blue 
eyes  looked  unrelated  to  his  brown  cheeks, 
and  an  inch  or  less  above  them  there  was 
a  sharp  dividing  line  between  his  singu- 
larly white  forehead  and  the  dusky  tints 
below.  The  old  farmer  glanced  toward 
him  once  or  twice  compassionately,  and  at 
last  came  and  laid  a  heavy  hand  kindly 
upon  Dan's  shoulder. 

"  Don't  cry  before  ye  're  hurt,  lad,"  he 
said.  "Don't  take  no  account  of  that 
youngster's  nonsense,  neither ;  't  ain't  wuth 
your  while,  as  I  view  it." 

Lester  flushed  again,  and  looked  more 
angry  than  before ;  his  first  impulse  was  to 
accuse  his  annoyers  and  defend  himself,  but 
luckily  he  became  aware  of  the  opportunity 
to  plead  his  cause  with  Doris's  father.  He 
choked  down  his  silly  wrath,  and  a  gentle, 
almost  pleading  expression  came  into  his 
face ;  no  words  could  be  found  for  a  min- 
ute, and  the  elder  man  stood  waiting  pa- 
tiently. "Come,"  he  said  at  last,  "we 
must  get  to  work." 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  91 

"  I  've  been  wanting  to  speak  with  you," 
Lester  whispered,  as  if  they  might  be  over- 
heard even  at  that  distance  from  their  com- 
panions. "  I  do  set  everything  by  Doris. 
I  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  make  certain  I  had 
a  right  to  her." 

"  I  can't  say  but  I  'm  willin',"  answered 
the  farmer.  "  I  should  like  to  see  it  come 
about,  far 's  I  'm  concerned.  Have  ye  spoke 
with  her  last  night,  may  be  ?  "  and  he  looked 
hopefully  at  his  would-be  son-in-law's  trans- 
parent countenance.  "  Your  father  and  me, 
we  was  always  the  best  of  friends.  I  'd 
rather  have  you  master  of  the  old  place 
than  anybody  about,  so  long 's  poor  Isr'el 
never  '11  want  it." 

"  I  tried  to  screw  me  up  to  say  something 
or  'nother,  so  she  'd  know,  as  we  was  ridin' 
along  last  evenin',"  said  Dan,  grateful  for 
the  listener's  confidence.  "  I  don't  know  's 
I  'm  chicken-hearted,  but  I  could  n't  speak 
my  mind.  Seems  if  she  must  know,  too.  I 
wish  the  women  was  the  ones  that  spoke  first, 
they  'd  get  over  it  a  sight  the  easiest ; "  and 
Dan  tried  to  laugh,  but  his  mirth  was  not 
sincere.  "  She  's  too  good  for  me  by  a  long 
shot,  but  I  never  '11  let  her  want  for  nothin', 
specially  lovin'  kindness,"  he  burst  out,  with 


92  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

such  excitement  that  the  next  moment  a  re- 
action followed  his  unwonted  sentiment,  and 
he  felt  afraid  that  his  old  friend  would  laugh 
at  him. 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  the  elder  man  exclaimed 
somewhat  impatiently.  "  I  don't  feel  uneasy, 
Dan,  an'  't  will  all  come  right  in  time.  She 
ain't  sure  of  her  own  mind  p'rhaps,  but  't  is 
set  that  way.  Women  's  a  kind  of  game  : 
you  Ve  got  to  hunt  'em  their  own  track,  an' 
when  you  've  caught  'em  they  Ve  got  to  be 
tamed  some.  Strange,  ain't  it  ?  —  they  most 
all  on  'em  calc'late  to  git  married  ;  and  yet 
it  goes  sort  of  against  their  natur',  too,  and 
seems  hard  to  come  to,  for  the  most  part :  " 
and  Mr.  Owen  shook  his  head  solemnly  over 
this  difficult  question,  and  walked  away 
slowly  to  his  work.  Lester's  mind  felt  not 
wholly  unburdened,  but  this  was  at  least  a 
good  beginning.  "  The  old  gentleman  don't 
make  so  clean  a  cut  this  year  as  I  've  seen 
him,"  he  thought.  "  I  '11  borrow  some  excuse 
to  get  him  to  quit  work  early  ;  "  and  then  Dan 
gave  his  own  scythe  a  vigorous  whetting,  and 
mowed  with  surprising  effect  all  the  after- 
noon. Perhaps  the  stranger  at  the  farmhouse 
was  gone  already.  No,  the  farmer  had  said 
that  his  wife  was  going  to  take  him  to  board 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  93 

for  some  days ;  and  Dan  felt  an  unusual 
sense  of  bitterness  toward  the  good  woman 
who  seemed  to  be  so  unfriendly  to  his  cause. 
Perhaps  the  painter  was  a  married  man.  It 
was  no  use  to  be  distressed,  and  Doris  had 
been  very  good-humored  the  evening  before, 
as  they  drove  to  the  choir-meeting.  Yet  as 
the  hours  went  by  he  grew  more  and  more 
anxious  to  see  her  again. 

As  for  Jim  Fales  and  Mr.  Jenks  and  Al- 
len, they  were  filled  with  vain  imaginings, 
and  made  themselves  particularly  merry  over 
the  lover's  exasperation.  "  Land,  how  we  '11 
thorn  Dan  up  to-morrow  telling  how  him  and 
her  was  keeping  company  in  the  best  room, 
and  walking  up  in  the  orchard  after  dark  !  " 
said  Jim  Fales.  "  There,  now ;  see  the  old 
sir  a'  clappin'  him  on  the  shoulder !  He  's 
going  to  say,  Bless  you,  my  child'n,  sure 's 
you  're  alive." 

"  He  seemed  mightily  taken  with  the  city 
chap,  it  struck  me,"  said  Mr.  Jenks,  who  had 
worked  in  one  of  the  Sussex  shipyards  all 
summer,  and  had  lately  been  thrown  oiit  of 
employment  by  the  dull  season.  "  And  look 
here,  young  man,  you  'd  best  keep  out  o'  the 
range  of  Dan  Lester's  fist,  if  you  've  set  your 
mind  on  baiting  him."  Mr.  Jenks  was  a 


94  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

man  of  few  words,  and  his  junior  looked 
disappointed  and  grave  at  this  unexpected 
warning. 

"  I  don'  know  's  we  've  got  to  settle  every- 
thing for  'em  this  afternoon ;  but  Dan's  well 
stirred  up  and  jealous  as  sin,  ain't  he  ?  "  in- 
quired Jim,  a  few  minutes  afterward,  in  a 
serious  tone.  "  I  should  n't  wonder  myself 
if  it  set  him  on  to  get  matters  fixed  to  his 
mind.  He's  been  goin'  with  Doris  Owen 
ever  since  I  can  remember.  He  was  a  big 
boy  to  school  when  I  was  a  little  one  in  the 
primer." 

"  He  come  from  about  here,  did  n't  he  ?  " 
asked  Allen,  who  was  a  stranger  in  the 
neighborhood,  though  known  to  Mr.  Jenks 
by  means  of  the  shipyards  and  other  com- 
mercial interests. 

"  Right  over  beyond  the  cross-roads,"  an- 
swered Fales,  "where  the  crick  makes  in. 
His  father  and  grandfather  was  the  best 
bo't-builders  anywhere  about ;  but  Dan's 
father,  he  died  young,  and  his  mother  mar- 
ried'again  to  old  Lawton,  and  a  mighty  poor 
business  't  was,"  said  the  young  philosopher 
sagely.  "  She  'd  done  a  sight  better  to  stop 
where  she  was.  Dan  was  always  warrin' 
with  the  old  man,  and  nobody  blamed  him. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  95 

Dan  had  a  good  property  from  his  father's 
folks,  and  his  mother  did  n't  know  enough 
to  hold  on  to  it,  and  about  all  of  it  leaked 
away.  You  never  see  anybody  step  cheer- 
fuller  than  Dan  did  to  the  burying-grotmd, 
when  the  old  fellow  was  gathered.  He  was 
squiring  his  mother  at  the  head  o'  the  pro- 
cession, sleevin'  of  her  handsome,  as  if  he 
liked  it.  Dan 's  well  off :  he 's  been  an  awful 
lucky  fellow,  and  some  of  his  money  that 
grandsir  Lawton  did  n't  borrow  turned  out 
first-rate.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he 
was  worth  pretty  near  five  thousand  dollars 
to-day." 

"  That  won't  go 's  fur  as  it  used  to,  in 
maintainin'  a  wife,"  said  Jenks.  His  gener- 
ous lunch  seemed  to  have  put  him  in  a  talk- 
ative temper.  "  Five  thousand  dollars  used 
to  be  called  a  smart  property,  but  nowadays 
folks  has  to  have  so  many  notions ;  every- 
body must  stick  a  couple  o'  bay  winders  out 
front  of  their  houses,  else  they  ain't  consid- 
ered Christian.  Bill  Simms  had  to  do  it, 
for  all  his  place  was  stuck  as  full  o'  lights  as 
a  lantern  a'ready.  I  guess  he  finds  he  's  got 
took  in  with  his  new  companion.  There  was 
plenty  warned  him,  but  he  would  n't  hear  to 
reason ;  he  'd  been  told  she  'd  got  means." 


96  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

"  She 's  a  homely  creatur'  enough,"  spoke 
Allen  eagerly.  "  I  see  her  out  loppin'  over 
the  fence  middle  o'  the  morning,  day  before 
yisterday.  Where  'd  she  come  from,  any- 
way ?  Where  'd  Simnis  pick  her  up  ?  " 

"  I  b'lieve  't  was  over  Seabrook  way," 
drawled  Mr.  Jenks,  stooping  to  take  wider 
reaches  at  the  grass.  "  I  d'  know  whether 
she  was  drove  ashore  or  whether  he  took  her 
on  a  trawl,  I  'm  sure,  sir ; "  and  this  unusual 
turn  of  Mr.  Jenks's  conversation  forced  his 
comrades  to  laugh  heartily.  Indeed,  the 
sound  of  their  merriment  beguiled  Israel 
Owen  from  his  thoughts  of  the  past  and  Dan 
Lester  from  his  hopes  of  the  future,  and  they 
laughed  back  again  with  instinctive  sym- 
pathy. 


vm. 

THAT  afternoon  Mr.  Dafe  made  himself 
delightfully  agreeable.  Mrs.  Owen  felt  more 
than  equal  to  the  situation,  and  had  already 
welcomed  back  the  burly  strength  and  re- 
assuring cheerfulness  of  Temperance  Kipp. 
This  excellent  person  had  grown  up,  or  been 
raised,  as  she  would  have  expressed  it,  on  the 
farm,  and  remained  loyal  now  to  her  early 
friends,  in  spite  of  the  enticements  of  well- 
to-do  members  of  her  own  family. 

Dick  rejoiced  in  his  recovered  personal  be- 
longings, which  Temperance  herself  brought 
in  from  the  wagon  and  placed  beside  him, 
urged  to  this  service  by  an  insatiable  curi- 
osity to  see  the  guest  of  whom  Doris  had 
spoken.  Her  opinion  was  extremely  favor- 
able, and  after  a  short  time  the  good  woman 
came  downstairs  quite  shorn  of  her  holiday 
garb,  and  resumed  her  duties  in  the  house- 
hold. Dick  remembered  a  frequent  expres- 
sion of  Mrs.  Owen's  as  he  caught  an  occa- 
sional glimpse  of  Temperance ;  he  could 


98  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

well  believe  that  she  was  always  to  be  de- 
pended upon,  yet  he  had  an  instant  sense 
that  she  was  not  likely  to  take  his  part. 
Indeed  one  may  think  himself  lucky  whose 
enemies  do  not  rank  themselves  in  overpow- 
ering numbers,  for  woe  be  to  the  man  whose 
nature  is  instinctively  at  war  with  others. 
Dick  was  so  well  used  to  finding  himself  in 
harmonious  relations  with  his  associates  that 
he  was  for  the  moment  shocked  when  Tem- 
perance's shrewd  eyes  regarded  him  with  sus- 
picion, and  he  at  once  determined  to  make 
friends  with  her. 

By  and  by,  after  the  early  dinner  was  dis- 
posed of,  Doris  came  with  her  sewing,  to  sit 
on  the  shaded  step  of  the  side  door,  outside 
the  clock-room.  The  two  elder  women  also 
kept  the  sufferer  company.  He  told  some 
capital  stories,  and  spoke  with  exceeding 
wisdom  and  sympathy  of  certain  aspects  of 
farm  life  ;  he  also  praised  his  surroundings 
with  rare  discretion.  Mrs.  Owen  was  im- 
mensely pleased  with  Dick.  She  had  an  air 
of  being  even  proud  of  him,  and  assured 
him  in  a  most  motherly  way  that  he  could 
give  no  trouble,  and  must  take  his  own  time 
about  the  pictures,  and  make  himself  at 
home. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  99 

But  the  day  seemed  a  week  long  to  both 
Doris  and  the  painter.  As  for  Dick  Dale, 
he  wondered,  in  the  course  of  his  afternoon's 
entertainment,  if  he  might  not  be  growing 
gray.  He  was  used  to  a  social  aspect  of  life 
and  to  good-fellowship,  but  they  were  en- 
joying each  other  that  day  in  the  clock-room 
until  it  was  fairly  suffocating.  Yet  when 
Doris  appeared  in  her  cool  afternoon  dress, 
slender  and  shy  and  silent,  his  first  pleasure 
returned.  The  salt  breeze  that  came  in  from 
the  sea  as  the  sun  grew  low  sent  a  delicious 
freshness  through  the  house,  and  Dale  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  wondered  why  he 
had  not  liked  the  view  so  much  before.  He 
spoke  to  Doris  with  gentle  deference,  quite 
unlike  his  frank  comradeship  with  the  other 
women ;  and  she  blushed  a  little  as  slje  an- 
swered his  questions,  and  then  blushed  again 
to  think  she  had  blushed  at  all.  Dale  could 
see  her  from  his  chair,  which  was  kept  from 
rocking  with  extreme  difficulty.  He  pres- 
ently took  from  his  pocket  a  book  which  he 
had  chosen  when  he  first  opened  his  port- 
manteau. The  not  very  orderly  but  familiar 
contents  of  that  receptacle  had  given  him  a 
curious  feeling  of  exile  with  an  assurance  of 
comfort,  and  as  he  made  an  evident  signal 


100  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

of  discontinuance  to  the  conversation,  Tem- 
perance and  her  mistress  rose  and  went  their 
ways.  Dick  would  have  liked  to  try  read- 
ing aloud,  but  he  was  not  prepared  to  take 
the  risk  of  a  great  disappointment.  Doris 
certainly  looked  as  if  she  would  know  the 
meaning  of  such  true  poetry,  and  he  glanced 
at  his  young  hostess  from  time  to  time,  and 
wished  that  it  were  possible  to  stroll  through 
the  upper  orchard  again,  with  her  for  com- 
pany. 

When  the  sun  was  low  Doris  came  to  look 
at  the  industrious  old  time-keeper,  and  tht'ii 
hurried  away  up  the  yard  to  the  barns. 
Dick  wistfully  heard  the  horses  stamp  and 
her  emphatic  commands,  and  he  listened  with 
eager  interest,  a  few  minutes  later,  to  a  sound 
of  wheels  receding,  and  muffled  by  the  soft 
grass.  Doris  must  be  going  down  to  the 
creek  again  to  meet  the  haymakers.  AVus 
it  her  father  whom  she  wished  to  serve,  or 
the  lover,  who  was  also  at  work  on  the 
marshes  ? 

Doris  herself  was  filled  with  a  strange  ex- 
citement that  day.  She  was  finding  her 
own  thoughts  and  actions  painfully  unfamil- 
iar, and  felt  as  if  she  were  looking  at  them 
through  another  person's  eyes.  When  she 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  101 

reached  the  landing-place  she  could  not  have 
explained  why  the  bleached  grass  and  twigs, 
which  the  hay-boat  had  kept  from  light  and 
growth  all  summer,  struck  a  respondent 
chord  in  her  own  mind.  It  might  be  that  a 
weight  of  in  apprehension  and  necessity  of 
routine  was  lifted  from  her  consciousness ; 
but  whether  the  coming  of  the  young  stran- 
ger had  hastened  this,  or  only  marked  it,  no 
one  could  know.  Doris  became  more  and 
more  disturbed ;  her  thoughts  busied  them- 
selves provokingly  with  Dan  Lester  and 
that  fear  of  danger  and  impending  crisis 
which  had  troubled  her  the  evening  before. 
She  was  not  ready  to  listen  to  what  she  was 
certain  Dan  wished  to  say  ;  her  anticipation 
of  the  future  reached  no  farther  yet  than 
her  lover's  proposal,  and  by  no  means  made 
clear  her  own  answer.  Presently  Doris  was 
reminded  of  the  morning's  accident.  The 
stranger's  helplessness  and  pain  had  roused 
all  her  womanly  pity  and  eagerness  to  be  of 
use,  yet  something  had  taken  away  her  power 
of  action,  and  forbade  such  traits  to  show 
themselves.  Her  mother  had  never  made 
her  so  impatient  before.  The  homely  ex- 
pressions of  concern  and  excitement  seemed 
quite  needless;  but  Mrs.  Owen  was  ready 


102  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

with  prompt  service  and  simple  remedies, 
while  Doris  herself  only  grew  more  self-con- 
scious and  distressed. 

She  hated  her  own  silliness,  and  thought 
of  many  things  now  as  she  stood  waiting  at 
the  landing ;  but  the  twilight  fell  before  the 
tired  and  hungry  haymakers  made  their  ap- 
pearance. Once  or  twice  she  climbed  the 
hill  a  little  way,  to  watch  for  the  dory.  The 
silence  of  the  place  was  very  soothing,  and 
she  liked  to  hear  the  notes  of  birds,  piping 
clear  and  untroubled  from  a  thicket  not  far 
away.  There  were  two  thrushes  answering 
each  other  with  sweetest  voices  from  tree  to 
tree,  and  Doris  leaned  against  the  horse's 
warm  shoulder  and  listened  contentedly. 
She  was  glad  that  it  would  not  do  to  leave 
the  horse  alone :  it  is  a  curious  dislike  that 
such  domesticated  creatures  have  to  being 
left  to  themselves  in  lonely  places.  At  last 
the  sound  of  voices  and  of  dipping  oars  came 
drifting  through  the  still  air,  and  the  girl 
waited  eagerly  for  her  father's  greeting. 

It  came  presently,  cheerful  and  pleased, 
and  Doris  answered.  Then  she  saw  that 
there  was  an  unexpected  person  in  the  boat, 
five  men  in  all,  and  hardly  knew  why  she 
wished  for  some  reprieve  or  defense,  and 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  103 

even  grew  rigidly  silent  with  displeasure. 
A  minute  later  Dan  Lester  leaped  ashore. 
"  You  and  me  '11  walk  up  to  the  house, 
Doris,"  he  said,  decidedly.  "  It 's  a  pretty 
evening."  The  other  workmen  were  hur- 
riedly landing  their  tools  ;  they  had  not  ob- 
served Dan's  words,  as  Doris  had  angrily 
supposed.  "I  shall  have  to  ride  with  fa- 
ther," she  answered,  coldly.  "I  must  go 
right  home  now  to  help  about  supper." 

This  was  very  unlike  her  usual  quiet 
friendliness.  The  young  man  stood  still  for 
a  moment,  looking  at  her  ;  then,  as  she 
turned,  he  said,  "  Good-night,  all !  "  and  also 
turned  away,  crashing  through  the  bushes 
as  if  he  meant  to  take  the  straightest  way 
toward  his  own  home.  Israel  Owen  looked 
after  him  wonderingly. 

"  I  wish  you  would  stop  to  supper,  Dan !  " 
he  shouted,  a  moment  afterward,  but  pres- 
ently mounted  the  long  wagon.  Jim  Fales 
sat  in  the  end  of  it,  swinging  his  feet,  but 
the  other  men  tramped  alongside.  The  flash 
of  unreasonable  anger  faded  from  the  girl's 
mind.  She  was  sorry  that  she  had  hurt 
Dan's  feelings, —  he  was  always  so  friendly ; 
but  she  had  not  liked  his  speaking  so  before 
the  rest.  .  .  .  The  sky  was  clear  and  the  air 


104  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

was  very  soft ;  there  were  only  a  few  frag- 
ments of  bluish  cloud  against  the  narrow 
band  of  rose  color  in  the  west.  Doris  could 
not  help  thinking  that  a  walk  over  the  hill 
and  down  through  the  orchard  might  have 
been  pleasant,  after  all. 

Dan  Lester  heard  the  farmer's  anxious 
inquiry  about  some  accident  that  had  hap- 
pened, and  presently  somebody  spoke  of  the 
doctor.  He  was  not  far  away,  poor  Dan; 
the  thick  hedgerow  of  black  cherry-trees  and 
underbrush  prevented  anybody's  seeing  him 
at  the  other  side  of  a  stone  wall.  "  Dear  ! 
dear ! "  said  Mr.  Owen  anxiously,  once  or 
twice ;  and  the  lover  was  sorry  he  had  been 
so  impatient,  and  would  have  given  anything 
to  know  what  had  happened  at  the  farm- 
house. Perhaps  he  would  walk  up  after  dark ; 
they  might  not  have  been  able  to  bring  Tem- 
perance back  from  Dunster,  —  and  Dan  hur- 
ried homeward  along  a  faint  trail  of  a  foot- 
path which  crossed  the  dewy  fields  and  a 
wide  pasture.  He  blamed  himself  more  and 
more  for  not  going  to  the  Owens'  at  once, 
but  there  was  certainly  something  strange 
in  Doris's  behavior.  He  did  not  often  make 
such  a  fool  of  himself  as  he  had  that  night. 
If  Doris's  mother  were  ill,  she  would  have 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  105 

told  her  father  at  once,  or  have  sought  him 
earlier.  Perhaps  the  painter  had  met  with 
an  accident,  and  Dan  concluded  to  have  a 
look  at  him  before  an  hour  later.  This 
kindly  fellow  was  suddenly  transformed  into 
a  vindictive,  suspicious  enemy  of  any  person 
who  could  thwart  his  long  -  cherished  love. 
Twenty-four  hours  were  indeed  a  short  time 
for  a  stranger  to  have  gained  much  vantage- 
ground,  but  after  all  Doris  Owen  was  a 
woman. 

Dick  Dale  thought  the  men  amusingly 
curious  and  excited  about  his  slight  accident. 
By  this  time  it  was  quite  an  old  story  to 
everybody  else.  Each  haymaker  professed 
to  have  met  with  exactly  the  same  disaster, 
and  to  be  acquainted  with  the  only  infallible 
remedy.  As  for  Doris,  her  expression  had 
changed  surprisingly ;  she  looked  hurt  and 
impatient,  and  when  she  brought  a  tray  with 
Dick's  supper,  she  cast  an  appealing  look 
into  his  very  eyes.  He  became  sure  that 
something  troubled  her,  and  gave  her  more 
than  one  compassionate  glance  in  return. 


IX. 

WESTWARD  from  the  farm,  beyond  an  ex- 
panse of  almost  level  country,  a  low  range  of 
hills  made  a  near  horizon.  They  were  gray 
in  the  drought,  and  bare  like  a  piece  of  moor- 
land, save  where  the  fences  barred  them,  or 
a  stunted  tree  stood  up  against  the  sky,  lean- 
ing away  from  the  winter  storms  toward  a 
more  sheltered  and  fertile  inland  region. 
The  windward  side  of  the  Marsh  Island  it- 
self was  swept  clean  by  the  sea  winds ;  it  was 
only  on  the  southern  and  western  slopes  that 
the  farmer's  crops,  his  fruit-trees,  and  his 
well-stocked  garden  found  encouragement  to 
grow.  Eastward,  on  the  bleak  downs,  a 
great  flock  of  sheep  nibbled  and  strayed 
about  all  day,  and  blinked  their  eyes  at  the 
sun.  The  island  was  a  thrifty  estate ;  going 
backward  a  little  in  these  latest  years,  the 
neighbors  whispered,  but  more  like  an  old 
country  habitation  than  many  homes  of  this 
newer  world. 

The  salt-hay  making  was  over  at  last.    The 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  107 

marshes  were  dotted  as  far  as  eye  could  see 
by  the  round  haystacks  with  their  deftly 
pointed  tops.  These  gave  a  great  brilliance 
of  color  to  the  landscape,  being  unfaded  yet 
by  the  rain  and  snow  that  would  dull  their 
yellow  tints  later  in  the  year.  September 
weather  came  early,  even  before  its  ap- 
pointed season,  and  there  was  a  constant 
suggestion  of  autumn  before  the  summer 
was  fairly  spent.  The  delicate  fragrance  of 
the  everlasting-flowers  was  plainly  noticeable 
in  the  dry  days  that  followed  each  other 
steadily.  The  summer  was  ripe  early  this 
year,  and  the  fruits  reddened,  and  the  flow- 
ers all  went  to  seed,  and  the  days  grew 
shorter  in  kindly  fashion,  being  so  pleasant 
that  one  could  not  resent  the  hurrying  twi- 
light, or  now  and  then  the  acknowledged 
loss  of  a  few  minutes  of  daylight.  From  the 
top  of  the  island  hill  a  great  fading  country- 
side spread  itself  wide  and  fair,  and  seaward 
the  sails  looked  strangely  white  against  the 
deepened  blue  of  the  ocean.  There  were 
more  coasting-vessels  than  could  usually  be 
seen,  even  in  midsummer,  as  if  great  flocks 
of  them  had  grown  that  year,  like  the  birds. 
In  these  days,  nobody  stopped  to  think 
much  about  Dick  Dale's  lingering  at  the 


108  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

farmhouse.  His  temporary  invalidism  was 
the  cause  of  most  friendly  relations  with  all 
the  family ;  his  presence  appeared  complete- 
ly natural  and  inevitable.  When  he  had 
given  Israel  Owen  an  excellent  drawing 
made  from  the  small  picture  of  the  soldier, 
there  was  no  longer  any  question  of  the  ar- 
tist's being  welcome  to  anything  upon  the 
island.  Dick  had  taken  great  pains  with 
this  experiment  in  portrait  -  making.  He 
told  himself  that  he  was  not  ashamed  of  it, 
either,  though  he  was  most  grateful  for  hav- 
ing had  some  aid  to  contentment  during  the 
few  days  he  had  kept  his  lamed  foot  still 
in  the  clock-room.  He  was  not  without  his 
fancies  about  the  portrait's  subject ;  for  as 
he  worked  he  had  a  vague  consciousness  of 
an  unseen  presence,  and  some  most  telling 
touches  were  made  almost  in  spite  of  him- 
self. He  thought  often  of  the  possible  un- 
seen dwellers  in  such  old  houses,  and  as  he 
resumed  his  out-of-door  rambles  it  was  with 
a  continued  sense  of  companionship,  or  as 
if  another  were  sharing  the  use  of  his  own 


Though  the  mistress  of  the  house  had  of- 
ten spoken  scornfully  of  those  who  sold 
their  peace  of  mind  and  parted  with  all 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  109 

sovereignty  and  comfort  in  their  homes  to 
rapacious  summer  boarders,  the  presence  of 
this  quiet  and  courteous  young  gentleman 
in  her  own  household  appeared  quite  an- 
other thing.  He  did  not  make  the  daily 
work  seem  any  more  burdensome ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  gave  a  pleasant  flavor  of  holi- 
day-making to  her  life.  Everybody  liked 
to  please  Dick,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  he 
tried  not  infrequently  to  give  pleasure  as 
well  as  take  it ;  he  knew  how  to  confer  a 
favor  by  the  way  he  received  one.  To  him 
the  situation  grew  more  and  more  satisfac- 
tory and  almost  ideal.  There  was  a  patri- 
archal character  to  the  family.  The  gentle 
old  farmer,  with  his  flocks  and  herds  and 
his  love  for  his  lands,  was  a  charming  ex- 
ample of  the  repose  and  peace  to  be  gained 
from  country  life  ;  it  all  contrasted  strange- 
ly with  the  mode  of  existence  Dale  had 
known  best.  Sometimes  he  shut  his  eyes 
and  tried  to  fancy  the  familiar  racket  out- 
side his  city  windows.  The  English  spar- 
rows in  their  one  smoke-blackened  tree  had 
alone  reminded  him  that  there  was  such  life 
as  this  in  the  world.  He  assured  himself 
again  and  again  that  he  must  send  for  Bra- 
dish,  his  studio  partner  and  best  crony,  to 


110  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

come  and  share  these  treasures ;  but  day 
after  day  went  by,  and  still  Dick  delayed 
to  write.  He  thought  with  scorn  of  those  ac- 
quaintances who  believed  themselves  bound 
to  walk  and  drive  and  dine  and  sleep  only 
at  fashionable  hours.  They  might  read  the 
same  books,  if  they  chose,  and  praise  the 
same  things  as  completely  as  the  usual  di- 
versifications of  human  nature  would  allow. 
There  was  nothing  so  satisfactory  as  to  step 
ashore  out  of  the  great  current,  —  "  Things 
are  of  the  snake,"  quoted  our  hero,  and  was 
thankful  for  once  that  he  was  busy  just  at 
the  time  when  so  large  a  part  of  the  world 
is  idle.  Since  his  student  days  in  France 
he  had  done  the  lightest  possible  work  at 
his  profession,  but  now  he  was  fired  by  an 
ambition  to  carry  back  to  town  some  suf- 
ficient evidence  of  his  skill  and  perception. 
Bradish  and  other  comrades  of  his  own 
were  hard-working  fellows,  who  found  the 
American  public  absurdly  economical  in  re- 
spect to  art.  They  despised  entirely  that 
bad  taste  which  allows  a  householder  to  pay 
five  hundred  dollars  for  a  carpet,  without 
annoyance,  and  to  shrink  from  the  extrava- 
gance of  giving  the  tenth  of  that  amount  for 
a  good  sketch.  Bradish,  for  whom  our  hero 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  Ill 

had  a  sincere  friendship,  was  a  generous 
young  man,  whose  purse  was  usually  empty ; 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  Dale  quietly 
paid  a  large  proportion  of  the  studio  bills, 
more  for  his  comrade's  sake  than  his  own. 
But  he  must  give  the  little  group  of  painters 
some  reason  for  their  fond  belief  that  he 
could  do  better  things  than  any  of  them,  if 
he  tried ;  and  it  might  be  as  well  to  reestab- 
lish his  claim  to  belong  to  a  circle  of  work- 
ers instead  of  drifting  on  as  a  well-known 
figure  in  general  society. 

Besides,  there  was  a  pleasing  sense  of 
having  hidden  away  from  the  curious  world, 
and  it  was  wise  to  enjoy  this  while  it  lasted. 
Dale  was  much  amused  at  watching  the 
effect  upon  himself  of  being  transplanted  by 
a  whimsical  fate  into  that  rural  neighbor- 
hood. He  was  well  endowed  with  practical 
gifts,  though  one  must  acknowledge  that 
these  were  combined  in  an  apparently  un- 
practical character,  and  a  few  alterations 
and  rearrangements  in  the  rooms  of  the 
farmhouse  made  it  much  more  interesting 
than  it  had  ever  been  before.  He  liked  it 
too  well  as  it  was  to  suggest  many  actual 
changes,  but  he  rescued  more  than  one  piece 
of  old  Delft  or  mahogany  from  ignoble  uses, 


112  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

and  deeply  enjoyed  and  profited  by  Mrs. 
Owen's  generous  exhibition  of  her  house- 
hold furnishings.  She  professed  a  vast  in- 
difference to  his  most  cherished  discoveries  ; 
it  was  the  farmer  whose  sentiment  and  dis- 
cernment were  delicate  enough  to  follow 
Dick  far  in  his  aesthetic  enthusiasms.  Do- 
ris, who  watched  and  wondered,  and  moved 
about  the  old  house  with  gentle  quickness, 
enjoyed  this  new  dispensation  more  than 
anybody  else.  She  was  made  like  her  fa- 
ther. Some  of  their  ancestors  had  been  of 
gentle  blood  and  high  consideration  in  the 
old  days  of  the  colonies ;  her  home  -  loving 
womanly  pride  bloomed  now  in  new  free- 
dom and  delight.  What  Mrs.  Owen  had 
in  former  years  contemptuously  spoken  of 
as  Doris's  notions  were  referred  to  and  pa- 
raded with  motherly  satisfaction.  Some- 
times the  girl's  heart  was  fiDed  with  con- 
fusion, because  her  mother,  in  some  cordial, 
garrulous  moment,  unveiled  one  of  the  lesser 
shrines  of  her  own  nature.  There  was  a 
sacred  reserve  in  Doris :  her  inmost  heart 
could  not  put  itself  into  speech ;  she  was 
only  frightened  and  grieved  when  another 
dared  to  be  noisy  in  her  sweet  silences.  As 
for  her  own  talk,  it  was  apt  to  be  so  child- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  113 

ishly  simple,  that  those  who  wished  to  know 
her  feelings  must  watch  her  eyes.  With  all 
her  shyness,  she  had  a  way  of  forcing  one  to 
meet  her  eyes  fully,  and  the  tale  they  told 
was  remembered  afterward,  while  the  words 
of  her  lips  were  forgotten. 

There  was  a  studio  now  on  the  Marsh 
Island,  —  a  place  wholly  picturesque  and 
delightful  to  its  occupant.  Dick  had  early 
discovered  an  upper  room,  with  an  outer 
stairway,  over  the  narrow  chaise-house,  and 
was  told  that  the  women  of  the  family  had 
once  gone  there  in  summer  weather  to  do 
their  spinning.  In  such  coolness  and  airi- 
ness, at  the  edge  of  the  orchard,  there  must 
have  been  almost  a  festival,  as  the  wool- 
wheels  and  flax-wheels  whirred  and  merry 
voices  chattered  together.  There  had  for- 
merly been  a  loom,  also,  but  it  had  been 
taken  to  pieces;  and  when  Dale  first  ex- 
plored the  spinning-room  it  was  quite  empty 
except  for  some  damaged  ears  of  seed-corn 
which  the  rats  had  rolled  about  the  floor. 
The  artist  inspected  these  quarters  eagerly. 
He  looked  out  of  a  square  north  window  at 
the  apple-trees  and  a  glimpse  of  blue  water. 
Opposite  he  saw  the  back  of  the  old  farm- 
house, with  its  quaint  joiner- work  half  hid- 


114  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

den  by  a  woodbine  flecked  with  red ;  beyond 
that,  past  the  great  willows,  was  the  barren 
range  of  hills,  already  purple  in  the  after- 
noon light.  It  was  impossible,  not  to  return 
to  the  family  at  once  with  the  suggestion  of 
such  possible  ease  and  comfort  in  artistic 
pursuit.  By  that  time  next  day,  with  the 
aid  of  some  sober-tinted  rugs  which  Temper- 
ance deemed  the  worst  of  her  manufacture, 
and  some  ancient  chairs  that  had  hardly 
been  thought  fit  even  for  a  place  in  the 
kitchen ;  with  a  claw-footed  table  and  a  tall 
cider  mug  to  hold  a  handful  of  flowers,  the 
spinning-room  delighted  even  Mrs.  Owen. 
She  laughed  good-naturedly  at  the  promotion 
of  her  disdained  possessions,  but  the  fanciful 
wayfarer  stood  proudly  in  the  doorway  to 
take  a  last  look,  while  the  good  people  went 
away.  It  was  supper-time,  and  he  was  not 
disposed  to  be  late,  but  he  assured  himself 
that  such  a  studio  would  really  make  Bra- 
dish  howl. 

There  was  plenty  of  material  for  sketches 
to  be  had  without  straying  far,  and  for  some 
time  Dick  thought  little  of  anything  but  his 
pictures.  It  was  a  busy  month  at  the  farm, 
with  the  successive  harvestings;  but  he 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  115 

learned  to  greatly  enjoy  and  to  depend  not 
a  little  upon  the  interest  and  comments  of 
his  housemates.  As  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  late  one  afternoon,  to  take  a  somewhat 
disheartening  view  of  his  work,  he  scarcely 
noticed  at  first  that  some  one  stood  in  the 
doorway.  The  sun  was  low,  and  filled  the 
little  room  with  golden  light.  The  unfin- 
ished picture  should  have  looked  its  best 
with  such  a  halo,  but  Dale  pushed  back  the 
easel  with  dangerous  roughness,  and  gath- 
ered his  brushes  with  an  impatient  hand. 
"  Ah,  Doris,  is  that  you  ? "  he  said,  more 
coldly  than  usual,  and  Doris  smiled  in  un- 
necessary assent. 

She  did  not  often  appear  so  interested 
and  so  comfortably  forgetful  of  herself  as 
that  day.  She  stepped  inside  the  room,  and 
her  face  glowed  with  pleasure  at  the  artist's 
unfinished  work.  "  I  like  that  better  than 
anything  you  have  painted,  Mr.  Dale,"  she 
said  simply ;  and  then,  as  if  nobody  need 
say  anything  else,  she  waited  quietly,  look- 
ing at  the  canvas  with  evident  delight.  It 
seemed  as  if  she  had  a  sudden  revelation  of 
the  pleasantness  of  the  little  room  and  its 
contents,  or  rather  as  if  she  had  been  please'] 
already  by  something  that  had  happened  be 
fore  she  came  to  the  spinning-room. 


116  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  Dale  answered,  begin- 
ning to  take  heart  again.  "  I  tore  up  one  of 
the  best  water-colors  I  ever  made,  because  I 
was  too  tired  to  like  it  when  it  was  done." 

"  Oh,  what  a  pity !  "  Doris  whispered 
softly. 

They  had  grown  to  be  very  good  friends, 
though  the  girl  was  often  elusive,  and  placed 
some  indefinable  barrier  about  herself.  He 
was  not  the  only  person  who  felt  its  presence. 
Dale  thought  sometimes  that  Nature  had 
made  a  mistake  in  putting  this  soul  into  so 
tall  and  commanding  a  body ;  perhaps  Doris 
would  have  been  more  at  ease  in  the  world 
if  she  had  been  smaller ;  the  sort  of  woman 
whom  everybody  takes  care  of  and  pets,  if 
they  have  a  right.  But  Nature  could  work 
out  her  own  wise  plans,  and  this  fine,  strong 
character  would  be  ready  to  answer  great 
demands  as  well  as  little  ones.  Martha 
Owen  announced  in  these  days  that  it  had 
done  Doris  good  to  have  Mr.  Dale  stay  at 
the  farm,  —  it  had  waked  her  up  a  little ; 
but  she  would  always  be  just  like  her  father ! 

Doris  was  looking  her  very  best,  this  Sep- 
tember afternoon,  in  a  simple  white  dress 
which  had  once  been  worn  only  on  the  finest 
and  hottest  summer  Sundays.  She  had 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  117 

taken  it  for  every-day  use  this  year.  To-day 
she  had  picked  up  a  small  broken  twig  of 
cider  apples  which  had  fallen  from  one  of 
the  old  trees,  and  put  it  in  her  belt.  The 
green  leaves  and  the  paler  tints  of  the  clus- 
tered dwarfed  fruit,  heightened  here  and 
there  with  a  dash  of  red,  were  most  charm- 
ing, and  Dale  looked  at  Doris  with  great 
pleasure  while  she  looked  at  the  picture. 

Presently  she  roused  herself  from  her 
short  reverie  with  a  little  sigh :  "  Oh,  I  came 
to  ask  you  if  you  could  find  it  convenient  to 
go  to  Sussex  with  me  to-morrow  morning. 
Mother  wants  to  send,  and  we  remembered 
that  you  spoke  about  going,  a  while  ago," 
and  Doris  looked  in  his  face  with  childish 
eagerness.  "  Mother  and  Temp'rance  and  I 
have  been  as  busy  as  bees  all  this  week.  I 
don't  like  to  be  drudging  in-doors,  this  splen- 
did weather,"  she  added,  with  a  rare  little 
laugh.  Dale  was  always  delighted  when  she 
laughed ;  she  was  more  apt  to  smile  slowly 
and  gravely,  like  her  father. 

Doris's  plea  of  drudgery  was  almost  un- 
founded ;  she  was  apparently  less  fettered 
by  duty  than  the  rest  of  the  family,  and  this 
would  not  be  the  first  drive  they  had  taken. 
Mrs.  Owen  was  only  too  willing  for  the 


118  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

young  people  to  be  together,  and  the  farmer 
never  objected.  Yet  Dick  had  become  less 
familiar  with  them  all  rather  than  more, 
since  he  had  involved  himself  in  his  work, 
and  his  first  delight  at  his  surroundings  had 
ripened  into  more  practical  acquaintance. 
Latterly  they  had  followed  their  own  pur- 
suits, and  taken  little  heed  of  each  other's. 
As  for  Dan  Lester,  he  seemed  to  have  dis- 
appeared altogether.  The  evening  of  Dick's 
accident  was  the  last  time  he  had  come  to 
the  house.  Dick  himself  suspected  that 
there  had  been  some  quarrel ;  but  to-night, 
at  any  rate,  Doris  was  sufficiently  light- 
hearted.  Within  a  few  days  she  had  in- 
dividualized herself  in  a  strange  way ;  he 
thought  of  her  a  great  deal  more  than  usual, 
and  felt  a  new  interest  in  her  works  and 
ways.  So  marked  a  growth  of  sympathy 
there  was  that  he  told  himself  she  had  been 
only  a  part  of  the  general  attractiveness  of 
the  Marsh  Island  at  first.  He  had  always 
liked  to  watch  her,  and  had  enjoyed  her 
charming  outlines  and  her  coloring,  in  the 
same  way  that  he  made  the  most  of  the  looks 
and  behavior  of  one  of  the  old  willows. 
Doris  was  a  woman,  and  the  willow  was  a 
tree ;  but  that  had  not  made  any  difference 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  119 

in  his  feeling  except  one  of  degree.  He  be- 
gan to  wonder  what  her  future  would  be,  and 
gave  a  quick  shrug  at  its  probable  inade- 
quacy to  her  capabilities.  He  was  curious 
to  see  Lester  again,  though  quite  thankful 
to  him  for  taking  himself  off.  Dick  had 
been  conscious  of  an  instinctive  liking  for 
his  rival  when  he  had  first  entered  the  clock- 
room,  divining  the  truth  that  the  poor  fellow 
was  showing  his  worst  side,  either  from  some 
awkwardness  or  fancied  injury  and  opposi- 
tion. 

The  farmer  had  spoken  a  few  grateful 
words  in  recognition  of  Lester's  generous 
service  when  he  was  short  of  help.  Dan  was 
the  best  ship's  blacksmith  in  that  region,  the 
stranger  was  told ;  and  Doris  had  looked 
up,  when  her  father  said  this,  more  pleased 
than  Dan  himself,  who  scowled  and  shook 
his  head  disclaimingly.  Doris  was  evidently 
most  penitent  because  she  had  offended  this 
friend,  and  made  shy  endeavors  to  restore 
herself  to  favor ;  but  she  kept  her  seat  by 
the  window  when  he  said  good-night,  and  it 
was  the  kindly  old  farmer  who  held  the  flick- 
ering lamp  high  in  the  dark  side  doorway, 
while  Dan  lingered  a  minute  wistfully,  look- 
ing back  once  or  twice,  and  then  tramped 


120  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

away  angrily  down  the  yard.  Doris  thought 
she  should  see  him  in  the  morning,  when  he 
came  to  join  the  others  ;  but  though  she  was 
early  at  the  landing,  having  insisted  on  her 
father's  driving  down,  Dan  had  again  crossed 
the  meadows  by  the  foot-path,  and  was 
gloomy  and  troubled  all  day  as  he  cut  and 
raked  the  grass.  But  Doris  had  done  noth- 
ing wrong,  she  proudly  told  herself ;  Dan 
had  no  right  yet  to  be  master ;  while  Dan 
considered,  himself  more  and  more  aggrieved, 
and  so  went  presently  to  Sussex,  and  ham- 
mered away  his  wrath  on  the  innocent  bolts 
and  bars  of  a  fishing  smack,  but  would  not 
be  merry  or  like  himself,  while  many  days 
went  by. 

Nobody  could  have  prophesied  such  a 
complication  of  hindrances,  but  in  all  this 
length  of  time  Doris  could  find  no  reasonable 
excuse  for  going  to  Sussex.  She  often  drove 
in  other  directions  with  her  father  or  with 
Mr.  Dale,  who  had  more  than  once  asked  to 
be  transported  whither  his  sketching  instinct 
led  him,  but  Sussex  seemed  to  be  forbidden 
ground.  Once  she  would  have  gone  simply 
because  she  wished ;  now  there  must  be  an 
indisputable  necessity,  evident  to  all  behold- 
ers, and  such,  at  last,  was  her  mother's  de- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  121 

sire  to  inquire  for  the  well-being  of  a  cousin 
of  whose  illness  they  had  chanced  to  hear. 
Dan  was  so  old  and  dear  a  friend,  she  would 
certainly  manage  to  see  him,  and  to  learn 
why  he  was  behaving  in  this  fashion.  The 
color  flamed  in  Doris's  cheeks  at  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  cared  for  her  now  in  a 
new  way;  but  it  was  strange  enough  that 
love,  if  this  were  love,  should  make  him  so 
impatient  with  her.  All  their  lives  long, 
they  had  differed  more  or  less,  and  it  never 
had  separated  them  in  the  least.  She  had 
put  him  in  her  elder  brother's  vacant  place, 
in  her  childhood.  He  had  said  once  that  he 
always  meant  to  take  as  good  care  of  her  as 
Israel  would  have  done. 

But  when  Doris  reminded  herself  of  this, 
and  wished  that  his  feeling  might  never  have 
changed,  a  sense  of  untruthfulness  made  the 
wish  a  not  very  compelling  one.  Mr.  Dale 
had  often  spoken  of  going  to  Sussex,  and 
Doris  mentioned  this  to  Mrs.  Owen,  to  that 
good  woman's  intense  satisfaction,  and  then 
serenely  went  her  way  to  the  studio. 

"  Sussex  ?  "  asked  Dick,  in  a  fretful  tone. 
"Yes,  that  would  be  just  the  thing.  I  should 
like  to  see  something  new ;  I  am  tired  of 
this  awkward  sham ;  and  while  you  do  your 


122  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

errand,  I  will  try  a  sketch  in  one  of  those 
little  ship-yards.  I  must  n't  scold  at  this, 
though,  since  you  are  kind  enough  to  be 
pleased  with  it.  Doris !  "  —  He  came  a  step 
nearer,  and  stood  before  her,  looking  at  the 
white  dress  and  at  the  apple-twig ;  then  he 
gave  a  quick  glance  at  her  face.  "Doris, 
you  really  must  not  forget  that  I  am  going 
to  make  a  sketch  of  you.  Your  father  would 
like  to  have  one  to  keep  with  your  broth- 
er's, perhaps,"  he  added.  "  I  mean  if  I  can 
make  it  good  enough." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Doris,  ready  to  promise 
anything  that  day.  "  There  would  be  noth- 
ing to  prevent,  almost  any  afternoon." 

Dick  took  his  brushes  in  his  other  hand. 
He  was  unusually  smeared  with  his  paints, 
and  felt  hot  and  cross  again.  Doris  might 
have  spoken  so,  if  she  had  been  a  sort  of 
picturesque  gate-post  or  a  sunflower;  she 
must  surely  have  understood  something  of 
what  he  meant  to  say ;  but  at  that  moment 
she  smiled,  and  was  better  to  look  at  than 
ever.  "  I  think  you  are  tired,"  she  said,  in 
an  altogether  sisterly  but  quite  charming 
manner.  "  You  must  take  a  whole  day's 
vacation  to-morrow,  if  we  go  to  the  ship- 
yards." But  the  thought  of  her  secret  made 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  123 

the  least  bit  of  a  guilty  blush  flicker  for  one 
moment  in  her  cheeks.  Dan  would  be  so 
angry,  she  thought,  to  see  her  coming  with 
Mr.  Dale,  but  she  felt  more  than  confident 
of  her  power  of  pacification. 


NEXT  morning  Mrs.  Owen  was  in  an  un- 
usually brisk  and  bustling  frame  of  mind 
and  body.  She  gave  her  daughter  many 
important  charges  and  messages,  and  treated 
the  little  expedition  as  if  it  were  a  most 
serious  enterprise  and  a  special  embassy 
from  herself.  Dale  half  repented  at  the 
last,  when  he  went  to  the  studio  to  see  his 
work  and  leave  it  in  safety,  lest  a  wander- 
ing breeze  should  overturn  the  easel,  and 
break  the  corners  of  his  treasured  sketches. 
He  liked  the  new  picture  now,  and  felt  dis- 
posed to  stay  at  home  and  go  on  with  it, 
after  all ;  but  Doris  was  already  waiting. 

Mrs.  Owen  watched  them  drive  away  to- 
gether with  feelings  of  great  pride.  They 
meant  to  be  home  by  dinner-time,  for  it  wtos 
early  yet,  but  who  knew  what  might  happen 
in  the  mean  time ! 

As  Doris  had  grown  more  and  more  anx- 
ious about  her  lover's  non-appearance,  she 
had  become  less  self-conscious  and  more 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  125 

friendly  with  Mr.  Dale,  and  this  was  readily 
mistaken  by  her  mother  for  increasing  in- 
terest. Lately  the  good  woman  had  allowed 
herself  to  believe  that  propinquity,  the  cause 
of  so  many  matches,  was  coming  to  the  aid 
of  this,  and  visions  of  Doris's  city  life  and 
her  own  share  in  such  real  prosperity  often 
delighted  her.  Sometimes  she  told  herself 
that  she  was  too  old  now  and  too  far  behind 
the  times  to  take  her  part  in  the  affairs  of 
polite  society,  but  the  fact  that  her  daughter 
would  not  be  cut  off  -from  them  and  need 
not  rust  out  on  a  farm  almost  made  up  for 
her  own  disappointment.  A  woman  of  more 
quick  sympathies  and  perceptions  would 
never  have  duped  herself  so  completely. 
Outwardly,  the  frank  good-fellowship  of  the 
two  young  people  had  been  deceptive,  and 
the  sight  of  Doris  driving  her  fleet  young 
horse  along  the  country  roads,  with  Dale  sit- 
ting by  her  side,  had  become  familiar  and 
most  suggestive  to  more  lookers-on  than  Mrs. 
Owen.  The  other  farm  horses  were  almost 
always  used  at  that  season,  and  Doris's  had 
been  unruly  in  its  youth,  and  finally  broken 
and  always  driven  by  herself.  She  was  in 
the  habit  of  going  to  the  village  to  do  er- 
rands, and  it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing 


126  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

in  the  world  that  she  should  often  take  the 
artist  as  passenger. 

Dale  carried  a  sketching-block  and  a  brush 
or  two  in  his  hand,  while  his  coat -pocket 
sagged  heavily  with  the  weight  of  his  largest 
paint-box.  There  were  some  colors  in  it  that 
he  might  need  ;  beside,  if  he  chose,  he  could 
stay  all  day  at  Sussex,  and  be  driven  home 
at  night.  It  was  more  than  an  hour's  jour- 
ney, even  at  the  quick  rate  the  horse  went, 
but  there  was  nothing  unpleasant  in  that 
thought.  Doris  was  •  more  than  ever  attrac- 
tive, and  her  companion  stole  many  glances 
at  her.  She  was  intent  upon  controlling  the 
frolicsome  horse ;  she  looked  eagerly  at  the 
windows  of  a  neighbor's  house  ;  she  thought 
of  anything  and  everything,  apparently,  but 
the  opportunity  of  taking  a  drive  with  Dick, 
whose  efforts  at  conversation  and  successfid 
jokes  were  only  a  part  of  the  general  excite- 
ment and  delight  of  the  morning.  Doris 
was  utterly  unconscious  of  her  own  beauty, 
if  an  observer's  opinion  were  to  be  trusted ; 
her  family  also  seemed  to  consider  it  of  so 
little  consequence  that  Dale  sometimes  won- 
dered if  he  were  deceiving  himself,  even 
while  he  had  the  delightful  evidence  before 
his  eyes.  It  appeared  to  him  that  she  made 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  127 

little  use  of  her  gift.  Some  women  would 
lay  waste  and  destroy,  and  others  would  be 
an  inspiration  to  poets  and  painters ;  but 
Doris  went  her  simple  ways,  dutiful,  unself- 
ish, and  quiet,  fulfilling  her  destiny  with  no 
regret  at  being  defrauded  of  social  gains  or 
victories.  She  would  have  liked  to  escape  a 
stormy  wooing ;  if  she  should  ever  love  any 
one,  she  wished  the  lover  would  understand, 
and  say  little  about  it  to  her  or  to  any  one 
else.  The  changes  and  events  of  life  had 
always  come  to  her  naturally,  as  leaves  push 
out  of  the  bare  trees  in  spring  and  flowers 
come  into  bloom.  She  did  not  like  to  speak 
her  gravest  and  sweetest  thoughts,  or  of  her 
troubles,  either  ;  she  was  self-contained,  and 
did  not  desire  to  be  won  through  such  harsh 
fashions.  Dan  ought  to  know  that  she  had 
never  thought  of  unkindness  toward  him. 
But  now,  if  he  were  foolish  and  put  out  with 
her,  she  would  surely  go  to  see  him  and 
make  it  right.  She  had  no  coquetry,  but 
she  could  avail  herself  of  its  weapons.  She 
would  tease  Dan  a  little  with  the  sight  of 
Mr.  Dale,  and  then  undeceive  him  if  he 
were  deceived.  Dear  Doris !  she  turned  to- 
ward Dick  at  that  moment  to  see  if  he  also 
had  a  mind  to  enjoy  the  morning's  pleasure. 


128  A  MARS  a  ISLAND. 

Love  is  forever  a  mystery ;  it  is  rooted 
deep  in  still  greater  mysteries,  and  the  attrac- 
tions and  repulsions  even  of  friendship  are  as 
inflexible  as  law  can  make  them.  Love  and 
death  are  unknowable  this  side  of  heaven, 
but  mankind  is  ever  busy  watching  the  signs 
of  both  with  curious,  unsatisfied  eyes, — 
these  strange  powers  that  take  possession  of 
us  against  our  will,  and  make  us  strangers 
even  to  ourselves.  Dick  Dale  sometimes 
wondered  afterward  if  this  morning  were  not 
the  time  when  a  new  motive  and  affection 
first  took  guidance  of  him.  At  any  rate,  he 
never  before  had  been  filled  with  a  desire  to 
kiss  Doris  Owen,  often  as  he  had  looked  at 
her  lovely  face.  He  was  surprised  at  him- 
self a  minute  later,  but  the  wish  was  not  to 
be  forbidden  so  easily.  The  first  leaf  of 
that  growth  curled  itself  back  into  the  soil 
again,  having  found  the  weather  a  little 
frosty  for  much  flourishing,  but  the  root  was 
already  strong,  having  taken  several  weeks 
now  to  fortify  and  spread  itself  unseen. 

It  was  some  distance  across  the  sea  of  grass 
which  surrounded  the  Marsh  Island,  and  the 
free  wind  blew  to  and  fro,  as  if  it  came  from 
no  particular  quarter  of  the  clear  blue  sky. 
The  autumn  haze  had  disappeared,  and  the 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  129 

outlines  of  the  low  country  were  clear-cut, 
and  the  bright,  blurred  colors  of  the  veg- 
etation strangely  distinct.  The  bare  hills, 
which  reminded  Dale  very  often  of  Northern 
Scotland,  looked  more  astray  than  ever  in 
the  landscape.  At  all  times  of  the  year  they 
seemed  inharmonious  and  unrelated  to  the 
sea-meadows  or  fruitful  upland  slopes,  as  if 
some  mistake  had  been  made  in  putting  to- 
gether a  great  dissected  map.  Doris  slowly 
turned  her  head  as  she  glanced  along  the 
gray,  sad  hills.  The  least  wild  creature 
could  hardly  find  shelter  in  all  the  distance ; 
there  was  no  reserve  and  no  secret ;  the  hills 
were  like  the  telling  of  some  sad,  unwelcome 
news,  in  their  harsh  insistence  and  presence. 
"  I  used  to  be  afraid  to  go  over  them  when 
I  was  a  little  girl,"  she  said.  "  I  remember, 
after  Israel  died,  father  would  stay  there  all 
day,  sometimes.  He  used  to  say  that  he 
must  mend  the  fences,  but  one  day  mother 
made  me  go  and  find  him,  and  he  just  had 
his  head  in  his  hands,  and  sat  there  doing 
nothing.  Poor  father !  "  and  Doris  was  si- 
lent again. 

The  marshes  had  faded  since  the  day  Dick 
Dale  saw  them  first  that  year ;  their  surface 
was  soft  and  brown  now,  and  even  a  cold 

9 


130  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

gray  where  the  grasses  had  not  grown  since 
the  salt  hay  was  gathered,  —  except  that  the 
shores  of  all  the  creeks  were  bordered  with 
vivid  green,  so  that  the  sombre  coat  of  that 
part  of  the  wide  country  was  laced  with 
green  ribbons,  and  on  such  a  day  as  this, 
when  the  tide  was  high,  was  also  decorated 
with  broad  and  narrow  bands  of  blue,  with 
crimson  orders  and  noble  decorations,  em- 
broidered here  and  there  with  samphire. 
The  world  was  charmingly  gay  with  all  these 
colors  and  delights,  but  it  was  like  a  merry- 
making in  a  tottering  and  defeated  kingdom. 
A  sadness  hovered  in  the  air ;  this  was  more 
like  a  commemoration  of  past  glories  than 
an  inspiration  and  heralding  of  any  that  were 
to  come.  Dale  was  reminded,  almost  with 
pain,  that  he  must  leave  his  pleasant  quarters 
before  long ;  it  would  hardly  be  possible  to 
stay  at  the  farm  in  the  winter  ;  but  he  need 
not  appoint  the  day  for  his  departure  now, 
thank  fortune ! 

They  stopped  sometimes,  while  Doris  spoke 
to  an  acquaintance,  and  often  Dick  could 
hardly  help  smiling  at  the  quaint  speech  or 
the  character  of  the  conversation.  He  could 
not  overcome  the  idea  that  Doris  only  played 
a  part  in  such  intercourse,  that  her  natural 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  131 

instincts  and  experiences  were  of  the  sort 
he  knew  best,  and  that  she  looked  at  this 
rural  life  in  his  own  fashion.  He  had  dis- 
covered long  before  that  the  Owens  were 
above  the  common  level  of  society,  and  their 
character  as  a  family  bore  much  likeness  to 
the  uplifted  Marsh  Island  itself.  Doris 
really  knew  few  people  beside  her  own  towns- 
folk. She  had  no  idea  of  the  vast  number 
of  persons  with  whom  those  who  go  much 
about  the  world  may  gain  a  half  acquaint- 
ance. She  often  seemed,  like  her  father,  to 
have  an  insight  into  human  nature  which 
could  have  been  secured  only  through  some 
crafty  and  unnatural  means.  Yet  their  sim- 
plicity was  the  most  marked  thing  about 
them,  —  their  simplicity  first,  and  then  their 
generosity. 

Dale  had  no  idea  of  the  real  importance 
of  the  morning's  enterprise.  He  concerned 
himself  with  his  own  pleasure,  and  enjoyed 
Doris's  uncommon  enthusiasm  and  excite- 
ment as  if  he  were  the  inspirer  of  it ;  think- 
ing once  how  she  would  grace  a  broader  life 
than  this,  and  that  she  deserved  something 
better  than  Sussex  and  Dunster.  He  did  not 
like  her  best  clothes,  simple  as  they  were, 
so  well  as  her  plain  house-frocks  ;  he  wished 


132  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

she  would  always  wear  the  little  dress  of 
yesterday ;  but  she  never  seemed  quite  like 
the  tasteless  and  often  tawdry  young  people 
he  had  been  forced  to  associate  with  his  re- 
membrance of  country  neighborhoods. 

Sussex  came  into  view  at  last,  —  a  white, 
irregular  village,  crowded  close  to  the  river, 
as  if  it  had  either  made  up  its  mind  to  em- 
bark, or  had  just  come  ashore.  Doris's  eyes 
brightened  at  the  sight  of  her  journey's  end, 
and  Dale's  grew  a  trifle  cloudy  and  dis- 
appointed. He  would  have  liked  to  go 
driving  on  and  on  all  that  day,  asking  idle 
questions  about  the  people  and  the  houses 
along  the  road,  and  hearing  a  pleasant,  clear 
voice  answer  him.  There  was  something 
delightful  in  the  very  way  her  hands  held 
the  tightened  reins,  and  one  foot  kept  itself 
planted  and  braced.  In  fact,  there  was  an 
admirable  decision  and  purposefulness  in  the 
girl's  manner  which  made  her  more  interest- 
ing than  ever. 

It  was  after  her  usual  manner  of  doing 
things  that  she  faithfully  performed  her  ac- 
knowledged errand  first,  and  Dick  was  left 
for  half  an  hour  to  his  own  devices,  while 
she  sat  with  the  cousin  inside  an  old  gray 


A  MARSII  ISLAND.  133 

house  on  the  edge  of  the  village.  He  would 
have  been  delighted  to  follow  her,  being  cu- 
rious to  see  if  the  interior  were  half  as  re- 
warding as  he  fancied,  but  he  was  not  in- 
vited. He  had  decided  only  to  look  about 
the  town  that  day,  and  to  put  in  marks,  as  he 
expressed  it ;  then  he  would  come  back  again 
later.  Dick  had  more  work  begun  now  than 
he  was  likely  to  finish ;  but  as  he  sat  before 
the  old  house  which  held  Doris,  and  looked 
lovingly  at  its  rain  -  colored,  lichen -grown 
walls  and  the  adorable  traces  of  successive 
coats  of  green  and  yellow  paint  on  its  wide 
front  door,  he  became  again  enthusiastic. 
Why  would  not  every  builder  give  his  house 
one  coat  of  red  paint,  and  then  leave  all 
mural  decoration  to  the  weather  ?  The  very 
shutters  on  the  inside  of  the  windows  were 
blotched  and  sunburnt  into  a  semblance  of 
mahogany,  and  the  small,  greenish  panes 
of  glass  made  delicious  reflections  in  a  sort 
of  beckoning  way  at  him.  Yet  the  time  went 
by  slowly  until  Doris  reappeared,  and  crossed 
the  smooth,  short  grass  toward  the  wagon. 
He  had  not  observed  the  French  pinks  that 
grew  near  the  worn  doorstep  until  her  dress 
brushed  them  as  she  went  by ;  but  then  he 
saw,  instead  of  looking  straight  in  her  face, 


134  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

as  he  would  have  done  once,  that  a  fresh  tuft 
of  flowers  had  blossomed  on  one  of  the  fad- 
ing stalks,  and  he  could  not  help  wishing  to 
gather  it  for  her.  It  might  have  bloomed  at 
the  sight  of  her,  he  thought,  and  then  smiled 
in  spite  of  himself,  as  he  wondered  what  she 
would  think  if  he  told  her  such  a  sentimen- 
tal thing.  Once  he  had  never  hesitated  at 
mentioning  his  pretty  fancies,  but  it  makes 
a  great  difference  from  whence  a  fancy 
springs. 

"  Are  you  tired  of  waiting  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  am  not  ready  yet.  I  must  take  my  bas- 
kets in  ; "  and  by  the  time  Dick  had  alighted 
to  help  her  she  had  nearly  reached  the  house 
with  her  burden,  and  laughed  bravely  at  him 
a  few  minutes  afterward,  when  she  returned. 
He  began  to  wonder  what  made  her  so 
merry.  She  was  not  laughing  with  him, 
neither  did  she  seem  to  be  exactly  lauirliini; 
at  him,  but  the  secret  of  her  cheerfulness  re- 
mained her  own. 

He  had  not  remembered  how  picturesque 
and  delightful  the  quaint  town  was.  Tin- 
high  houses  of  sea-captains,  the  pride  and 
circumstance  of  meeting-houses,  the  busin.--- 
of  ship-building,  and  the  almost  Venetian 
privilege  of  water-ways  won  his  heart  com- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  135 

pletely.  There  was  a  long  bridge,  which 
seemed  like  a  hawser  that  held  the  two  parts 
of  the  town  together,  and  stray  seamen  who 
lounged  there  in  the  morning  sunshine  spoke 
in  voices  that  had  caught  some  notes  from 
the  creak  of  rigging  and  sounds  of  wind 
and  wave.  Here  and  there  a  half-finished 
schooner  pushed  its  bowsprit  far  ashore,  and 
the  incessant  knocking  of  shipwrights'  ham- 
mers was  heard  in  a  sort  of  rhythm,  as  they 
drove  the  treenails  and  fitted  the  stout 
planks,  or  more  gently  wedged  in  the  wisps 
of  oakum  to  keep  the  thievish  water  out. 
There  was  a  strong  flavor  of  tar  and  hard 
wood,  a  clean,  dry  odor,  which  contrasted 
with  the  dampness  that  rose  from  the  black 
sides  of  the  wharves  and  the  sticky  mud  in 
the  creeks.  The  tide  was  going  out ;  the 
foundation  of  the  village  seemed  to  be  inse- 
cure piles  and  slender  sea-bitten  timbers,  be- 
tween which  one  could  look,  as  if  they  were 
great  cages  for  long -since -escaped  marine 
monsters.  Olive  -  colored  and  brown  sea- 
weeds clung  to  this  old  wood,  while  here  and 
there  was  hanging  a  brilliant  strand  of  green 
moss  like  floss-silk,  shining  and  heavy  with 
water.  In  the  distance,  a  high  white  sail 
was  slowly  passing  down  the  thoroughfare 


136  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

that  led  to  the  sea.  From  the  rigging  of  an 
old  schooner,  under  process  of  repair,  the 
sharp,  childish  voice  of  a  naughty  boy  was 
calling  triumphantly  to  a  troubled  little  sis- 
ter below.  A  bright  red  flannel  shirt  —  Dale 
never  thought  of  the  man  who  wore  it  —  was 
wending  its  way  slowly  up  the  hill  beyond 
the  bridge.  He  did  not  notice  in  the  least 
that  they  were  so  near  a  blacksmith's  shop, 
or  that  they  could  hear  the  decided  clink  and 
ring  of  a  heavy  hammer  upon  an  anvil,  while 
Doris  had  looked  for  nothing  and  listened 
for  nothing  else. 

Dick  wondered  why  Doris  stopped  the 
horse  in  just  that  place.  There  were  two 
large  and  rusty  anchors  and  other  small  ones, 
and  lengths  of  battered  chain  seemed  to  have 
been  scattered  about  unnecessarily.  Could 
she  mean  to  have  the  horse  shod  by  a  ship's 
blacksmith  ?  And  then  occurred  to  him  the 
unwelcome  thought  that  this  must  be  Les- 
ter's place  of  business,  which  suspicion  was 
confirmed  directly  by  Lester's  appearance  in 
the  doorway.  He  was  scowling  at  Dale  un- 
mistakably, though  he  tried  to  be  uncon- 
cerned ;  he  did  not  look  at  Doris,  who  had 
begun  to  get  down  from  the  wagon.  She 
took  her  foot  from  the  step,  however,  and 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  137 

waited  silently  as  he  came  toward  them, 
stepping  over  the  chains.  His  cheek  was 
blackened  by  a  careless  touch  of  his  smutted 
hand,  and  he  had  evidently  been  hard  at 
work ;  where  his  shirt  collar  had  lost  its 
button  and  was  falling  open,  the  fairness  of 
his  throat  made  one  imagine  he  had  stained 
and  darkened  his  face  for  some  disguise. 
He  swung  his  great  hammer  lightly,  stood 
beside  his  visitors  like  a  slender,  vindictive 
Vulcan,  and  said  carelessly,  "  Good-day,  Mr. 
Dale.  Any  news,  Doris  ? "  as  if  he  were 
only  anxious  to  lose  as  little  time  as  possible. 

"  No,"  said  Doris,  "  there  is  n't  any 
news ;  "  and  yet  he  would  not  look  at  her. 

"  Shall  you  be  home  this  Sunday  ?  "  she 
asked  softly,  and  was  answered,  with  a  quick 
glance  from  the  blue  eyes,  that  it  was  not 
likely.  They  were  very  busy  with  the 
schooner ;  some  parties  in  Westmarket 
seemed  to  be  in  great  distress  for  her.  And 
at  this  pleasantry  Doris  took  heart.  "  We 
were  wondering  what  had  become  of  you." 
But  Dan  Lester  answered,  in  a  tone  that  ad- 
mitted no  further  conversation,  that  he  was 
all  right,  and  she  must  give  his  respects  to 
the  folks ;  at  which  Doris  gathered  up  the 
reins  quickly,  turned  the  horse's  head  toward 
home,  and  departed. 


138  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

There  was  a  look  in  her  face  which  Dale 
was  not  familiar  with,  and  he  did  not  see  it 
then,  though  he  felt  it  perfectly.  He  was 
sorry  for  the  girl :  he  understood  the  morn- 
ing's excursion  well  enough  now,  and  would 
have  liked  to  pound  the  surly  blacksmith 
with  his  own  hammer.  Doris,  for  her  part, 
felt  as  hard  as  a  stone.  She  was  rarely  made 
so  angry  as  this,  and  they  drove  homeward 
silently.  A  little  later  she  told  herself  that 
Mr.  Dale  should  not  know  that  she  had  been 
defeated  in  the  plan  which  she  had  made  and 
cherished  through  so  many  happy  hours. 
This  was  a  quick  and  sorry  ending,  and  she 
was  as  much  grieved  as  angered.  She 
thought  nobody  could  tell  that  anything  un- 
usual had  happened  when  she  said,  in  a 
straightforward  way,  that  Dan  seemed  to  be 
busy  that  morning,  and  reached  over  to  take 
a  small  basket  from  the  floor  of  the  wagon. 
"  Will  you  eat  a  golden  pippin  ?  "  she  asked, 
with  much  composure,  and  chose  one  for 
herself,  while  Dick  knew  perfectly  well  that 
they  had  all  been  meant  for  Dan  Lester. 

They  were  outside  the  village  now,  and 
beyond  the  sound  of  either  the  clinking 
hammers  or  the  knocking  ones.  A  few  min- 
utes afterward  they  passed  a  school-house, 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  139 

and  Doris  scattered  the  rest  of  the  apples 
by  the  roadside  as  she  went  slowly  by,  and 
laughed  to  see  the  children  tumble  together 
in  a  heap  over  them,  while  a  little  stray  dog 
jumped  and  barked  fiercely,  as  if  he  claimed 
a  share.  The  teacher  nodded  to  Doris  from 
the  doorway,  and  at  that  moment  our  heroine 
remembered  that  this  person  boarded  at  the 
same  house  as  Dan  Lester.  "  I  suppose  she 
will  go  straight  home  and  tell  him,"  thought 
Doris,  more  troubled  than  ever.  There  was 
a  willfulness  in  the  way  things  were  going 
wrong.  The  teacher  wondered  why  Doris 
blushed.  It  must  have  had  something  to 
do  with  Mr.  Dale ;  but  she  need  not  feel  so 
grand  if  she  did  get  him  to  go  to  ride  with 
her,  just  when  everybody  else  was  hard  at 
work. 


XI. 

DORIS'S  mother  stood  in  the  yard  at  least 
two  minutes,  in  the  bright  sunlight,  shading 
her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  watching  the 
young  people  drive  away  together.  She 
was  evidently  much  gratified  with  the  sight, 
and  nodded  her  head  soberly  as  if  in  acqui- 
escence, as  she  returned  to  the  house.  Tem- 
perance Kipp  glanced  at  her  superior  officer 
once  or  twice  with  some  curiosity,  but  said 
nothing. 

The  two  women  resumed  their  work,  and 
the  kitchen  soon  gave  evidence  of  unusual 
industry.  Israel  Owen  and  Jim  Fales, 
with  the  man  called  Allen,  who  had  again 
been  hired  for  a  week,  were  to  be  away  all 
day,  finishing  a  piece  of  ditching  which  the 
farmer  had  planned  in  anticipation  of  the 
spring  freshets.  This  was  likely  to  be  an 
undisturbed  morning,  and  the  good  women 
had  begun  various  enterprises,  chiefly  be- 
cause they  were  sure  of  having  the  house  to 
themselves. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  141 

If  an  outsider  could  have  observed  Tem- 
perance's honest  countenance,  he  would  have 
quickly  understood  that  she  was  waiting  for 
a  good  chance  to  say  something  to  her  com- 
panion. The  relation  between  Mrs.  Owen 
and  herself  was  not  recognized  as  that  of 
mistress  and  servant  except  upon  rare  and 
inharmonious  occasions.  Ordinarily  they 
looked  upon  each  other  as  colleagues,  and, 
to  do  her  justice,  the  dependent  was  as 
heartily  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the 
Marsh  Island  and  its  inhabitants  as  any 
member  of  the  family.  Temperance  was 
busy  just  now  scrubbing  some  tin  ware,  a 
pile  of  which  she  had  brought  from  the 
pantry,  and  worked  away  busily  with  soap 
and  sand,  sometimes  holding  off  a  big  pan 
at  arm's  length  to  detect  its  imperfections. 
She  watched  Martha  Owen  cautiously,  lis- 
tening eagerly  every  time  she  spoke,  but  for 
some  time  answering  her  questions  or  re- 
marks with  a  shade  of  disappointment  or 
lack  of  interest.  It  was  evident  that  she 
hoped  to  discern  a  frame  of  mind  hospitable 
to  some  information  she  was  ready  to  im- 
part, or  wished  Mrs.  Owen  herself  to  intro- 
duce the  subject  of  which  her  own  mind 
was  full. 


142  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

But  Mrs.  Owen  seemed  preoccupied,  and 
not  so  ready  to  discuss  men  and  things  as 
usual ;  she  was  busy  now  with  her  rolling- 
pin  and  flour-board  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  pantry,  next  the  narrow  window,  from 
whence  one  could  look  across  the  flag-stoned 
court  and  up  the  hillside.  This  window 
opened  only  a  little  way ;  the  two  upper 
panes  of  glass  were  but  half  as  tall  as 
the  rest,  and  the  -framework  was  absurdly 
heavy.  The  mistress  had  often  threatened 
to  have  such  a  piece  of  antiquity  replaced, 
though  Dale  had  lately  taken  the  trouble 
to  make  a  sketch  of  it,  with  the  curious 
outside  coping  or  cornice.  There  were  no 
two  of  the  windows  alike  in  that  row  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  and  some  quaint, 
short  curtains  of  old  East  Indian  cottons 
were  put  there,  where  they  would  not  often 
be  seen  and  mocked.  Dick  had  extorted  a 
confession  that  there  had  once  been  a  volu- 
minous drapery  of  that  really  beautiful  ma- 
terial for  the  best  four -posted  bedstead, 
and  his  hostess  remembered  now  that  she 
had  promised  to  look  among  her  possessions 
to  see  if  there  were  not  still  a  good  piece  of 
it.  She  smiled  again  at  his  admiration  of 
the  ugly  old  stuff  that  was  so  aggravatingly 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  143 

durable,  and  gave  a  more  indulgent  look 
than  usual  to  the  small  curtain  near  by. 
"  'T  is  pretty  colored,"  she  meditated,  "  but 
such  a  dreadful  homely  pattern.  I  do  be- 
lieve, if  he  had  his  way,  he  'd  set  the  old 
house  back  to  just  where  't  was  when  I 
come  here;  old-fashioned  as  a  dry -land 
ark." 

Temperance  saw  the  smile  that  followed 
this  thought,  and  grew  hopeful.  "  I  expect 
they  '11  find  it  pleasant  getting  to  Sussex 
this  forenoon,"  she  ventured.  "  'T  ain't  so 
sightly  along  the  ma'shes  unless  the  tide  is 
full."  The  whole  family  liked  to  have  their 
country  appear  its  best,  and  had  constantly 
apologized  to  Dick  for  any  defect  in  the 
weather. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Owen,  thumping 
away  at  her  pie  crust,  "  they  '11  have  it 
pleasant,  certain.  Temperance,"  with  re- 
newed importance  of  tone,  —  "  Temperance, 
why  would  n't  it  be  a  good  plan  to  have  up 
the  stone  jars,  —  the  lard  pots  that 's  emp- 
t'ed,  and  all  them  ?  We  may  not  have  such 
another  good  day,  and  't  is  well  to  sun  'em 
out  while  we  git  a  chance.  Land,  what  a 
little  while  't  will  be  before  we  kill  again ! 
I  never  hear  a  squeal  out  o'  the  sty  except 


144  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

I  think  what  a  piece  o'  work  I  've  got  afore 
me." 

"Well,"  said  Temperance,  gathering  up 
her  shining  pans  to  carry  them  out  to  the 
yard,  "  I  did  think  of  sweepin',  but  there  's 
no  haste,  and  these  tins  were  n't  so  bad  as  I 
thought  for.  I  '11  take  the  stone  ware  next. 
I  don'  know,  'f  I  was  you,  as  I  would  cross 
that  bridge  afore  I  come  to  it,  about  the 
hogs.  'T  is  a  good  three  months  yet."  But 
Mrs.  Owen  responded  with  a  somewhat  os- 
tentatious sigh,  and  abandoned  herself  to 
further  reflection. 

It  was  not  until  Miss  Kipp  had  paraded 
her  pots  and  pans  in  a  beaming  row  along 
the  garden  fence  that  her  opportunity  ar- 
rived. "I  declare,  I  never  set  out  them 
lard  and  butter  pots  without  thinking  of 
pore  Isr'el,  that  time  he  caught  all  the  cats 
and  kittens  about  the  place,  and  shut  one 
into  each,  and  set  the  tops  on,  and  I  went 
and  found  'em  when  I  was  going  to  take 
'em  in  on  account  of  a  shower.  I  was  dread- 
ful put  out,  and  I  had  to  laugh,  too.  There 
he  was  a -watching  of  me  from  the  wood- 
house,  and  never  dared  to  come  in  to  his 
supper  till  going  on  eight  o'clock.  He  wa'n't 
over  six  year  old." 


A  MARSH   ISLAND.  145 

"  I  declare,  I  'd  forgotten  about  that," 
said  the  mother.  "  I  know  one  spell  he  used 
to  play  us  plenty  o'  tricks,"  and  she  laughed 
a  little,  "  him  and  Dan  Lester.  Do  you 
know  how  they  got  some  old  clothes  and 
things  once,  that  was  up  garrit,  and  dressed 
themselves  up,  and  come  knocking  to  the 
door  ?  " 

"  They  'd  made  themselves  to  look  like 
the  minister  and  his  wife,"  responded  Tem- 
perance, with  alacrity,  "  and  I  declare,  you  'd 
known  they  meant  them  anywhere.  I  'd  no 
idea,  though,  when  I  see  them  first  standin' 
on  the  doorstep,  and  I  let  'em  right  in,  for 
the  joke  of  it,  to  where  Parson  Nash  and  his 
wife  was  setting,  going  to  stop  an'  take  tea. 
Land,  how  he  laughed  ;  but  she  was  put 
out.  Isr'el  looked  too  much  like  her,  and 
had  just  her  walk  and  the  way  she  held  her 
head  stepping  up  the  aisle  Sunday  morn- 
ings. He  said  he  did  n't  see  who  she  was 
through  them  great  spectacles.  She  went 
and  got  her  a  new  bunnit  afore  the  week 
was  out.  She  was  dreadful  close.  I  don't 
think  there  ever  was  an  amiabler  man  than 
the  minister,  though." 

"  I  believe  she  's  alive  yet,"  said  Mrs. 
Owen.  "  She  had  some  money  left  her,  you 
10 


146  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

recollect,  and  I  expect  she  '11  live  as  long 
as  she  can,  for  fear  o'  somebody  else  getting 
it." 

"  There,  now !  "  said  Temperance  Kipp, 
seizing  this  first  chance  and  quite  inadequate 
excuse  for  telling  her  secret,  "  I  know  I  'm 
a-breakin'  trust  so  to  do,  but  when  I  was  out 
last  night  I  stopped  in  to  Mrs.  Lawton's, 
and  she  let  on  that  they  'd  got  expectations 
o'  means  above  what  she  ever  counted  on. 
There  was  some  land  out  West  that  old 
Lawton  bought  with  some  o'  Dan's  money. 
You  know  folks  was  always  bejugglin'  him 
into  things.  They  Ve  always  paid  taxes  on 
it,  no  great  till  last  year,  and  then  it  was 
ris',  and  Dan  was  awful  pleased,  but  she  ex- 
pected him  to  be  put  out,  and  did  n't  dare 
show  him  the  bill  for  quite  a  spell.  He  had 
sense  to  see  't  was  ris'  in  value,  and  now 
they  've  got  word  of  the  growth  o'  the  place, 
and  he  's  had  an  offer  o'  six  thousand  dol- 
lars down  for  it.  She  read  the  letter  to  me  ; 
it  come  day  before  yisterday,  and  she 's  been 
wantin'  a  chance  to  send  it  over.  If  Doris 
had  been  going  by,  I  shoidd  have  told  her 
to  call  an'  see  if  there  was  anything.  But 
now  don't  you  say  a  word,  even  to  the 
'Square.  She  made  me  give  my  pledge  1 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  147 

would  n't  hint  a  word  of  it  to  nobody,  but  I 
thought  I  should  bu'st  if  I  had  to  keep  it 
all  to  myself." 

"  I  won't  tell  no  secrets,"  said  Martha 
Owen,  doggedly,  her  black  eyes  shining,  but 
not  with  pleasure.  "  I  expect  Dan  '11  be  the 
big  man  o'  the  town  yet.  I  hope  he  ain't 
one  o'  them  that  's  sp'iled  if  they  get  nine 
shillin's  ahead.  I  used  to  like  Dan  when  he 
was  growing  up,  and  him  and  Isr'el  was  so 
much  together,  too ;  but  last  time  he  come 
here  I  hoped  't  would  be  some  time  before 
he  favored  us  again." 

"You  had  your  wish,  then,"  suggested 
Temperance  good-naturedly.  She  had  al- 
ways liked  Dan,  and  meant  to  do  him  a 
kindness  in  telling  his  good  fortune.  "  I 
have  a  kind  of  notion  that  him  and  Doris 
have  had  a  quarrel,  and  that  she  's  going  to 
make  it  up  with  him  this  morning  over  to 
Sussex  ;  "  and  the  adventurous  handmaiden 
gave  a  sly  glance  across  the  kitchen. 

Mrs.  Owen  never  had  openly  declared  her 
opposition.  There  were  many  reasons  be- 
fore Mr.  Dale's  arrival  upon  the  scene  why 
she  had  not  cared  to  do  so,  and  she  re- 
strained herself  with  a  great  effort  now, 
though  her  face  flushed,  and  the  very  ex- 


148  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

pression  of  her  broad  back  was  vindictive  as 
she  bent  over  the  table.  "  I  don't  know  's 
Doris  need  be  in  any  hurry :  she  's  well  pro- 
vided for  as  she  is.  And  I  want  her  to 
marry  well  when  she  does  marry  ;  but  I  ex- 
pect she  '11  have  her  own  way,  and  other 
folks  must  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  She  '11  never  want  to  leave  the  farm,  I 
don't  believe,"  ventured  Temperance.  "I 
never  see  anybody  have  such  a  passion  for 
anything  as  she  has  for  the  old  place.  Her 
father  don't  hold  a  candle  to  her,  when  all 's 
said  and  done.  Dan  's  wonted  here,  too, 
and  would  seem  sort  o'  natural.  I  guess 
they  '11  make  it  up,  fast  enough,"  and  she 
disappeared  with  another  jar,  while  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house  wheeled  about  just  too 
late,  looking  more  angry  than  can  be  de- 
scribed ;  but  when  the  placid  countenance 
of  Miss  Kipp  reappeared,  Martha  Owen  had 
turned  to  the  table  again,  and  made  no  com- 
ment. 

"  I  guess  there  's  enough  would  snap  at 
him  if  Doris  lets  him  go  for  good  and  all." 
But  this  was  putting  patience  to  too  great  a 
strain. 

"  There,  don't  run  on  no  longer,  Tem- 
p'rance,"  said  the  mistress,  contemptuously ; 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  149 

"  you  wear  me  out.  There 's  plenty  besides 
to  concern  ourselves  with,  I  'm  glad  Dan's 
property  is  prospering,"  she  added,  gener- 
ously ;  "  but  like  's  not  some  starvin'  lawyer 
out  there  wants  a  bid  to  do  some  work,  and 
then  't  will  turn  out  to  be  a  mistake." 

Temperance  held  her  peace.  She  would 
have  liked  to  say  more,  but  there  was  a  de- 
cided barrier  for  the  time  being.  She  be- 
lieved, herself,  that  Dan  Lester  was  master- 
ful enough  to  secure  Doris,  and  it  seemed  an 
inevitable  and  proper  thing  that  he  should 
be  the  next  owner  of  the  farm.  She  was 
aware  of  the  present  mistress's  fancies  and 
ambitions,  but  she  did  not  respect  them 
much ;  they  appeared  to  her  unworthy  of 
the  judgment  and  experience  of  so  sensible 
a  woman.  We  have  more  patience  with  our 
friends'  wickedness  than  with  their  foolish- 
ness, in  this  world ;  and  for  her  part,  Tem- 
perance thought  the  marriage  of  Doris  and 
Dan  Lester  had  been  already  too  long  de- 
layed. She  felt  sure  that  a  little  encourage- 
ment and  out-and-out  talk  about  it  were  all 
that  was  necessary  to  precipitate  so  desirable 
a  conclusion.  But  the  mother,  mindful  of 
her  daughter's  beauty,  though  she  had  always 
striven,  on  fancied  moral  grounds,  to  betray 


150  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

no  consciousness  of  it,  and  mindful  more 
than  most  country  women  of  the  great  world 
outside  her  own  narrow  horizons,  was  eager 
through  Doris  to  come  into  connection  with 
other  society.  She  had  always  looked  for- 
ward to  a  relation  with  better  things,  but  she 
had  made  a  common  mistake  in  thinking 
these  were  wholly  outward,  and  dependent 
upon  anything  but  her  own  growth  and  de- 
velopment. The  Martha  Owen  of  the  Marsh 
Island  would  be  the  same  in  whatever  scenes 
or  circumstances  she  found  herself,  and  not 
transformed  to  match  her  new  vicinity.  A 
good  soul,  but  stationary,  it  was  a  great  pity 
she  had  not  been  wise  enough  to  love  the 
place  where  she  had  been  kindly  planted. 

The  morning  went  by.  The  pies  were 
baked,  and  the  pots  and  pans  still  a-sunning, 
and  once  or  twice  their  guardian  walked 
along  the  row,  and  tilted  one  more  directly 
toward  the  sun,  and  gathered  a  few  dis- 
tracted grasshoppers  from  their  prisons.  She 
glanced  down  the  road,  and  went  to  the  out- 
side of  a  window  once  to  look  in  at  the 
clock.  The  simple  dinner  was  arranged  for, 
and  after  this  Martha  Owen  came  out  of  the 
kitchen  door  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  151 

seen  the  wagon  driven  away,  and  went  saun- 
tering up  the  yard,  much  to  the  needless  ex- 
citement of  some  idle  hens,  and  finally,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation  and  reflection,  she 
climbed  the  short  stairway  to  the  spinning- 
room. 

The  little  place  looked  very  inviting ;  it 
was  cool  and  quiet,  and  held  an  atmosphere 
of  repose  and  reticence.  The  hot  kitchen 
which  she  had  just  left  kept  too  many  asso- 
ciations with  drudgery  and  monotony ;  and 
Temperance  was  in  that  mildly  aggressive 
frame  of  mind  which  could  not  be  too  deeply 
resented.  She  was  a  faithful  creature,  was 
Tempy,  but  full  of  the  notion  that  it  de- 
pended upon  herself  to  set  the  world  right. 

The  apple-trees  seemed  to  grow  closer 
than  ever  about  the  windows.  Their  boughs 
were  bending  low  with  a  great  weight  of 
fruit,  and  made  the  good  woman  sigh  to 
think  of  the  apple  paring  and  drying  which 
were  near  at  hand.  Doris  knew  only  the 
favorable  side  of  farm  life,  after  all;  she 
had  chosen  her  work  almost  always,  and 
every  day  there  was  some  task  that  was 
lighter,  pleasanter,  than  the  rest.  The 
mother's  heart  grew  heavy  as  she  pictured 
her  only  child  growing  faded  and  changed 


162  A   MAKH/f   IHLANIt. 

yeai  :ilt<-r  year,  tired  and  worried  m-.i 
more  with  lli.-  li:inl  round  air!  (•'  tlv  retpotl- 
hiliilily.  |)oris  had  it  in  ln-r  to  -row  heyoiid 
it  nil,  JIM  H)I<-  IK  i  <  It  had  i.nee  ;  to  do  omi- 
el, <•  :ind  something  better;  In  he 
-i  sin-  tc.ld  IH-J- ..-If  with  |i:ithrtic 
«liHuj)|)(iiiitiin'iit.  Mm  folk*  were  H!OW  :it 

UII(l«TMtuil(lil»^  llOW  H  WOIIIIIM  I'dl  :d>onl  M.  li 
(lull  doin^H  Jin»l  l:i«-li  «.l  •  nt.Tl.nniii.  n(,  tli«- 
int'  i  .-mil  tin-  i-iidh'HH,  Ixmy  days  of 
'  IIIIIIIIIT.  Sin-  widird  tlint  J)oris  nii-ht  In- 
s|t:in-d  :dl  tin  *,  cvi-n  il  1  )ori  ^  could  -MOW 
I'jlHU'Ht  :ind  !•!•  h;i|i|.'u-,|  in  tln>  \ri-\  coiidi- 
tioilH  W'liirh  |i;id  Irll.  M  cl  In  r  o\\  i, 

Tin   thought  wax  HU^;:«    i-d   to  lni,;wHhe 

MII\.  \.d  tin-  lilll.  room,  lli.-il  dill.  i. 'lit  UH6R 
mi  lit  In-  niiidr  o|  tin-  .inif  iii;itcci:ds.  Sll<> 
•  •(Mild  not  hflp  rcco^iii/in^  tin-  diinm  of  the 
|.l:irf,  :iltlion;di  it,H  funiishin^  WUM  Hch-ct4'd 
from  lu-r  own  diKilaincd  l»cli»n^in^H.  Sin- 
Mi  tin'  tin. •«•  .-oin.  i.-d  .  li.-iir  \\h«;re  she  sat, 

:md  hl«'|i|"'d  :I|M.II|  ...Illy,  ^lancili^  :it  tin- 
ski  IrhcH  which  were  displayed  al.oiit  tin- 
room.  It  was  a  I  i:in ••.  tiling  to  \»-  |o.,k 
•  Mirh  l.innh.ii  in  loiindiii^s  through 
aiiothi  r  P.THOH'H  t-yeH,  and  li.  .milrdat  tin- 
liUi-IH'MH  of  our  .•olli.r  o|  tin-  l;illii  allrr 
aiiolhri  ;  tin  i-,,., I  ,  and  rhiiniirys,  the  \sin 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  153 

(lows,  the  kitchen,  the  seldom -used  front 
door,  with  the  clustered  rose-bushes  almost 
blockading  the  way,  and  the  row  of  bull's- 
eye  ] vines  of  glass  overhead.  There  was 
even  the  side  of  the  small  room  where  Mr. 
Dale  still  slept,  with  the  sword  over  the  nar- 
row mantel-piece,  and  the  table  and  chair 
near  the  window,  and  even  the  faint  color- 
ing of  the  landscape  outside.  She  thought 
he  must  be  some  famous  artist  in  disguise, 
as  she  saw  the  cleverness  of  the  little  pic- 
tures, all  so  amazing  and  impossible  to  a 
looker-on  like  herself.  But  most  interesting 
of  all  was  a  diminutive  looking-glass  that 
hung  on  the  yellow-washed  wall,  with  a  with- 
ered twig  of  cider-apples  put  into  its  frame. 
She  had  given  him  the  mirror  herself ;  the 
glass  was  spotted  and  dull,  and  she  had  been 
amused  with  his  satisfaction  and  gratitude. 
Doris  had  worn  the  little  apples  in  her  belt 
the  very  night  before,  and  he  must  have 
picked  them  up  from  the  grass  beside  the 
door  as  he  went  up  to  the  spinning-room  that 
morning.  She  recognized  them  with  a  thrill 
of  hope  and  pleasure.  Somehow,  she  never 
had  taken  so  good  a  look  at  the  studio ;  she 
was  not  embarrassed  now  by  anybody's  pres- 
ence. The  young  man's  possessions  were 


154  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

scattered  about  in  luxurious  disorder.  Here 
was  a  well-browned  pipe  on  the  window-sill 
beside  her,  and  a  handful  of  letters  which 
he  had  received  the  night  before  were  lying 
on  the  seat  of  the  nearest  chair.  She  took 
up  a  book  and  opened  it  at  a  fly  leaf,  to  see 
7?.  Dale  written  there  in  odd,  twisted  letters, 
and  Venice  underneath,  with  the  date  of  a 
year  or  two  before.  He  had  lately  been 
reading  this  foreign  language,  for  one  of  his 
letters  was  between  the  pages,  and  Dick's 
new  acquaintance  looked  at  the  strange 
words  with  distrust  and  suspicion.  After 
all,  how  little  they  really  knew  about  this 
stranger !  He  appeared  to  be  a  good  fellow, 
but  he  might  be  poor  and  unsuccessful,  — 
that  is,  poor  for  his  station  in  life ;  and  Mrs. 
Owen  left  the  farm  and  the  sketches  far  be- 
hind in  her  next  adventurous  reverie.  Won- 
derful to  relate,  she  thought  with  ever-grow- 
ing interest  of  the  news  about  Dan  Lester's 
Western  property.  Temperance  would  have 
felt  entirely  rewarded  if  she  had  known  how 
important  her  betrayed  secret  had  become. 


XII. 

DAN  LESTER  had  gone  back  to  his  anvil, 
had  drawn  an  almost  melting  piece  of  iron 
from  the  forge,  and  beaten  it  until  the  sparks 
had  flown  across  the  shop  to  where  one  of 
the  younger  workmen  stood,  patiently  filing 
and  fitting  a  bit  of  steel.  He  called  back 
angrily,  and  Dan  did  not  notice  him,  but 
beat  the  harder  and  looked  the  crosser ; 
finally  he  laughed  aloud  at  nothing  at  all, 
and  then  whistled  in  a  shrill  and  aggravat- 
ing manner. 

"Wasn't  that  old  Isr'el  Owen's  girl?" 
asked  the  apprentice  needlessly.  "  Who  was 
that  f urriner  she  was  drivin'  out  ?  Some  o' 
their  folks  ?  " 

"  No,"  snapped  Dan  ;  "  't  was  a  painter 
fellow  they  've  taken  to  board." 

"Kind  of  smilin'-lookin',  's  if  he  was 
enjoyin'  hisself  this  morning,  wa'n't  he  ? 
Pretty  snug  harbor  there  for  one  o'  them 
swell  gentlemen  that  lives  by  their  wits,"  re- 


156  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

marked  the  apprentice  further,  at  the  same 
time  trying  to  shape  a  sharp  jarring  point  of 
the  steel  with  too  coarse  a  file. 

Lester  dropped  his  own  tools  among  the 
cinders,  and  strode  across  the  shop  to  give 
the  presumptuous  youth  a  severe  lesson  in 
his  trade ;  then  he  threw  off  his  leather 
apron,  and,  taking  some  bolts  as  if  he  were 
going  to  the  schooner,  went  out-of-doors. 
He  felt  as  if  the  two  or  three  men  he  passed 
on  the  bridge  were  laughing  at  his  discom- 
fiture, and  grew  more  and  more  angry 
with  Doris  for  having  paraded  her  admirer 
through  the  town,  and  flaunted  Dale  in  his 
very  face.  "  I  've  made  myself  too  cheap, 
that 's  a  fact,"  growled  Dan  to  himself. 
"  I  've  waited  on  her  year  in  and  year  out, 
and  followed  her  about  like  a  dog,"  and  the 
tears  filled  the  poor  fellow's  eyes.  .  .  .  He 
climbed  to  the  schooner's  deck  presently, 
and  was  glad  to  find  it  deserted ;  he  could 
not  bear  to  be  watched,  and  it  was  well  that 
the  workmen  were  down  below,  or  out  of 
sight  caulking,  or  planing  plank  in  the  ship- 
yard. 

Dan  leaned  over  the  rail,  and  looked  down 
at  the  white  chips  that  covered  the  bank  of 
the  tide  river.  The  shop  had  been  hot  and 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  157 

close,  but  here  there  was  a  fine  fresh  breeze 
from  across  the  marshes,  and  presently  his 
quick  temper  had  burnt  itself  out  like  a 
straw  fire.  He  found  himself  more  sorry 
than  angry  after  a  few  minutes  of  silence, 
and  began  to  accuse  himself  of  haste  and 
unkindness.  After  all,  what  right  had  he 
to  blame  Doris  Owen  ?  She  never  had  given 
a  single  sign  that  she  loved  or  meant  to 
marry  him  ;  she  had  never  heard  from  his 
own  lips  that  he  loved  her,  though  it  was 
impossible  to  believe  that  she  was  anything 
but  sure  of  that.  How  could  she  doubt  it, 
when  he  had  told  her  his  love  in  every  way 
that  he  knew  beside  speech  !  There  might 
never  be  a  chance  to  speak  now,  he  told 
himself  bitterly ;  he  had  been  a  fool  all  the 
time ;  but  when  you  felt  like  a  girl's  brother 
and  lover  too,  and  had  known  her  always,  it 
was  a  great  deal  harder  to  begin  your  love- 
making.  And  then  it  might  not  have  been 
Doris's  fault  that  the  artist  came  with  her. 
Of  course  the  fellow  liked  her,  and  was  cap- 
tured by  her  looks,  and  probably  she  had 
taken  the  first  chance  she  could  to  come  to 
Sussex,  just  as  he  hoped,  though,  after  his 
fancied  slight  on  that  last  evening,  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  trouble  her  no  further. 


158  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

The  wrath  that  had  been  kindled  then  had 
been  smouldering  ever  since,  fliough  only 
that  morning  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
go  home  to  spend  Sunday.  Now  the  ashes 
had  shown  their  hidden  spark,  and  the  fire 
of  his  jealousy  and  pain  had  blazed  ungen- 
erously, and  burnt  away  Doris's  dear  efforts 
at  reconciliation. 

She  was  gentle  and  serene,  and  undis- 
turbed by  small  disasters ;  but  her  lover  had 
learned  through  long  association  that  her 
anger  and  prejudice  were  as  slow  to  disap- 
pear as  they  were  difficult  to  arouse.  He 
was  farther  away  from  his  happiness  than 
ever,  and  all  through  his  own  folly.  He 
fancied  that  Mr.  Dale  had  looked  at  him  with 
wondering  disdain,  and  struck  his  clenched 
fist  fiercely  on  the  ship's  rail  at  the  thought. 
Poor  Dan  !  he  was  very  unreasonable.  He 
looked  haggard  and  old  as  he  turned,  in 
answer  to  a  call  from  the  bewildered  and 
curious  apprentice,  who  had  been  waiting  for 
work  until  he  was  out  of  patience,  in  the 
middle  of  what  had  promised  to  be  a  busy 
morning. 

Dan  went  on  with  his  own  work  with  less 
spirit  than  usual,  though  he  joked  and  teased 
the  undeceived  stripling,  for  fear  he  should 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  159 

suspect  there  was  any  trouble.  Once  he 
leaned  on  his  big  hammer,  and  in  the  hu- 
mility of  his  honest  love  reflected  that  Doris 
deserved  a  better  man  than  himself.  The 
stranger  might  be  able  to  make  her  happier 
than  any  one  else  ever  could.  There  was 
something  very  taking  about  Dale,  though 
Dan  himself  never  wanted  anything  to  do 
with  such  a  Miss  Nancy.  Old  Mr.  Owen 
thought  he  favored  Israel,  but  Israel  was 
worth  two  of  that  sort.  It  was  not  likely 
he  would  marry  Doris,  —  that  was  the  worst 
of  it ;  he  only  liked  to  play  with  her ;  and 
by  and  by  everybody  would  say  Dan  Lester 
was  glad  to  get  another  man's  leavings.  No, 
he  would  go  off  out  West,  and  make  his  way 
alone.  There  was  that  piece  of  land  that 
was  rising  in  value  every  day.  He  always 
meant  to  farm  it  some  day  or  other,  and  to 
give  up  this  makeshift  of  a  trade.  He  would 
rather  handle  a  good  smooth  live  field  and 
make  it  do  its  best  than  a  lump  of  dirty 
dead  iron.  And  at  this  the  great  hammer 
was  swung  aside  angrily,  and  the  crooked 
bar  went  to  the  forge  again. 

Visions  of  his  broken  plans  came  flocking 
up  to  tease  him  ;  his  whole  life  had  brought 
him  steadily  toward  a  certain  goal,  only  to 


160  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

show  him  something  like  the  brink  of  a  prec- 
ipice instead.  In  spite  of  the  attempted 
kindness  of  his  thoughts  toward  Mr.  Dale, 
he  could  have  stamped  him  into  the  dust 
after  the  schoolmistress  had  told  him  blandly, 
with  a  sidewise  glance,  at  dinner-time,  that 
Doris  Owen  and  the  boarder  had  stopped 
and  treated  the  children  to  apples  at  recess- 
time  that  day,  and  they  seemed  to  be  having 
a  sight  of  fun  together.  "  They  were  splen- 
did pippins,"  she  added,  indiscreetly,  a  few 
minutes  afterward,  to  increase  the  effect  of 
her  first  announcement.  But  Dan  cast  a 
contemptuous  glance  at  her  in  return,  and 
then  felt  shaky  and  accused  himself  afresh. 
Doris  was  bringing  them  to  him.  She  al- 
ways laughed  because  he  liked  them  so  much 
and  hunted  for  them  in  the  apple  bins. 
Doris  liked  him  now,  if  she  had  ever  liked 
him,  and  he  grew  more  eager  to  see  her 
again,  if  only  to  know  the  width  of  the 
breach  his  ugly  actions  had  put  between 
them. 


XIII. 

LATE  Saturday  evening,  Mrs.  Lawton, 
Dan's  mother,  heard  with  great  joy  the  sound 
of  wheels  in  her  narrow  yard,  and  quickly 
taking  a  light,  though  the  moon  was  at  its 
full,  she  went  to  the  side  door.  Dan  greeted 
her  with  unusual  cheerfulness  as  she  asked, 
in  a  worn  and  feeble  voice  that  contrasted 
poorly  with  his  own,  if  he  had  received  the 
summons  she  had  sent  him  in  the  morning. 

"  I  suppose  you  've  got  a  split  shingle  on 
the  shed-roof,  or  some  such  heavy  piece  of 
work,"  he  answered.  "  Mrs.  Dennell  said 
you  were  all  right  yourself,  so  far  as  she 
could  see." 

The  wagon  shafts  fell  to  the  ground,  and 
Dan  was  already  clattering  at  the  stable 
door ;  then  the  horse  stumbled  up  the  single 
step,  and  his  master  spoke  to  him  now  and 
then  in  loud  tones,  as  he  moved  about,  im- 
patient with  the  delay  of  his  supper.  Mrs. 
Lawton  still  stood  at  the  door  holding  the 
lamp,  though  the  wind  had  blown  it  out  some 
11 


162  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

minutes  before,  when  her  son  came  toward 
her,  along  the  moonlighted  path.  He  laughed 
at  the  useless  lamp,  and  the  eager  woman 
was  filled  with  confusion ;  then  they  went 
into  the  small  house  together. 

Dan  threw  his  hat  on  a  side  table,  pushed 
up  a  window,  and  seated  himself  beside  it ; 
the  old  cat  came  crying  to  his  side,  and  not 
receiving  at  once  the  desired  recognition, 
jumped  into  his  lap  and  nestled  down,  purr- 
ing loudly.  Mrs.  Lawton  was  busy  trying 
to  light  the  lamp  again,  but  she  let  one  match 
go  out,  and  dropped  another  on  the  floor,  and 
finally  upset  the  match-box  itself  with  a  loud 
clatter.  The  moon  shone  into  the  room,  and 
Dan  looked  round  compassionately,  and  be- 
gan to  laugh  at  her  disasters.  She  had  not 
seen  him  in  such  good  spirits  for  several 
weeks,  and  it  was  a  great  reward  for  her 
anxiety  to  have  him  at  home  again  in  such 
good  trim.  In  her  solitary,  uneventful  days, 
she  had  plenty  of  time  to  worry  about  Dan. 
Her  past  experience  of  life  had  certainly 
given  good  cause  for  some  fear  of  the  future. 

"Never  mind  the  light,"  he  said;  "it's 
bright  as  day  here.  Come  and  sit  down, 
and  don't  flitter  about  so,  mother ;  you  make 
me  think  of  a  singed  moth-miller.  I  Ve  had 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  163 

my  supper,  you  know.  I  didn't  get  away 
much  before  seven  o'clock." 

There  was  finally  a  successful  attempt  at 
illumination,  and  the  little  woman  came 
toward  her  son  and  put  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  "  Now  I  've  got  something  to  tell 
you,  Danny,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was 
shaking  with  excitement. 

The  man's  mind  was  filled  with  one 
thought,  and  something  made  him  fear  to 
hear  news  of  Doris  Owen  and  another  lover 
than  himself. 

"  Is  Doris "  —  He  spoke  fiercely,  but 
could  not  finish  his  sentence,  and  the  moth- 
er's quick  intuition  possessed  itself  of  his 
secret  in  that  single  moment. 

" '  Doris  ?  '  "  she  repeated,  wonderingly ; 
for  why  should  he  have  thought  of  her  then, 
even  though  he  always  thought  of  her  most? 
"  No.  I  had  a  letter  from  out  West  yester- 
day ;  that  is,  it  came  for  you,  and  I  did  n't 
send  it  over.  I  was  afraid  something  might 
happen  ;  a  letter  is  so  easy  to  lose.  That  's 
why  I  sent  word,  to  be  sure  you  'd  come 
home.  It 's  about  that  property  Simeon  in- 
vested some  of  your  father's  means  in  ;  it 's 
all  of  it  yours,  you  know.  They  say  it's 
getting  to  have  a  great  value.  Poor  Simeon, 


164  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

I  always  thought  he  meant  to  do  for  the 
best." 

Dan  stood  up  suddenly,  and  the  cat  fell 
to  the  floor,  much  to  her  surprise  and  dis- 
pleasure. "  Where  is  the  letter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  '11  find  it  in  a  minute.  I  put  it  some- 
where so  I  could  lay  my  hand  right  on  it 
the  minute  you  got  here,"  and  she  made  a 
fruitless  excursion  to  her  bedroom,  which 
was  next  the  room  where  they  were.  "  I  've 
found  it ! "  she  exclaimed  at  last,  delightedly. 
"  Here  's  the  lamp."  She  stood  beside  him, 
watching  his  face  while  he  read. 

The  letter  was  not  long,  and  the  young 
man  smiled  as  he  gave  it  back  to  her.  "  I 
should  like  more  of  the  same  sort,"  he  said. 
"  I  'm  not  going  to  sell  it,  either,  until  I 
know  more  than  this.  They  'd  try  to  get  the 
land  as  low  as  they  could,  and  most  like  take 
advantage,  if  the  owner  was  as  far  off  as  I 
am.  I  may  have  to  go  out  there,"  he  added, 
with  a  tone  of  pride  and  determination. 

"  I  should  take  advice  of  Israel  Owen," 
said  the  mother  gravely.  "  You  have  n't 
had  much  experience  in  such  things." 

"  Don't  be  fearful,"  said  Dan,  wishing  all 
the  while  it  were  not  too  late  to  go  to  the 
farm  that  very  evening.  "I'm  equal  to 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  165 

managing  my  own  affairs,"  he  added,  with 
feigned  disregard  of  any  such  desire. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lawton,  "  you  're  all  I 
could  ask,  my  son.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  see 
you  a  well-off  man.  I  have  n't  anything  to 
hope  for  myself.  You  've  kept  me  better 
than  you  need  this  good  while.  But  there, 
it's  natural  you  should  be  thinking  about 
somebody  else  besides  me."  She  sighed 
somewhat  wistfully,  and  wished  for  a  mo- 
ment that  she  could  always  know  that  her 
son  was  her  very  own,  and  see  no  other 
woman  caring  for  him  and  taking  the  first 
place.  It  was  not  very  often  they  felt  so 
near  each  other  as  they  did  that  night,  and 
she  pushed  back  her  chair  to  give  him  space, 
as  he  went  walking  to  and  fro,  only  a  few 
steps  each  way,  in  the  low  room.  He  was  a 
fine  -  looking  fellow ;  any  mother  might  be 
proud  of  him.  Now  he  could  live  on  his  own 
place,  and  give  up  his  trade,  no  matter  if  it 
were  so  enviable  a  place  as  master  smith  of 
the  best  ship-yard.  Now  he  would  be  likely 
to  marry.  He  was  proud,  Dan  was,  and  had 
not  meant,  she  was  already  sure,  to  speak 
to  Doris  Owen  until  he  was  independent. 

"I  wonder  if  Doris  will  feel  pleased?" 
she  said,  almost  unconsciously ;  and  Dan 


1S6  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

stood  still,  with  a  smouldering  light  in  his 
eyes,  which  looked  black  and  stormy. 

"  I  should  have  said  so  a  month  ago, 
mother,"  he  answered  defiantly ;  "  but  I 
don't  know  now.  There 's  no  telling  about 
you  women.  I  never  have  cared  for  nobody 
but  her,  though  I  Ve  made  no  talk  about  it. 
I  shouldn't  to-night  if  you  didn't  speak 
first.  If  I  can't  marry  her,  I  shall  live  sin- 
gle, —  that 's  all ;  and  the  harder  I  have  to 
work,  the  better.  I  shall  want  something  to 
make  me  forget  I  've  lost  what  I  've  always 
wanted.  I  '11  let  the  money  go  hang." 

The  troubled  and  startled  woman  rose, 
and  went  quickly  to  her  son's  side.  Dan  sat 
by  the  square  table,  and  had  dropped  his 
head  on  his  arms.  She  patted  his  shoulder 
with  a  light  hand  that  trembled  a  little ; 
somehow,  her  pleasures  were  apt  to  have  a 
bitter  ending  and  go  wrong.  She  wondered 
if  he  were  crying,  —  Dan  never  cried ;  but 
presently  she  heard  a  sob,  and  the  broad 
shoulder  shook  under  her  touch.  "  Don't, 
dear,  don't!"  she  whispered,  anxiously; 
"  't  will  all  come  right.  You  're  just  like 
your  father,  and  I  could  n't  have  said  him 
nay.  Girls  will  be  girls,  Dan,  and  she 's 
waiting,  most  like,  for  you  to  speak.  There 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  167 

ain't  a  thing  that 's  unworthy  about  Doris. 
She  favors  the  Owens,  and  I  know  'em  root 
an'  branch." 

Dan  looked  up  presently.  His  eyes  were 
blue  again,  now,  and  when  his  mother's  hand 
had  stroked  his  hair,  and  he  felt  the  worn, 
thin  fingers  touch  his  neck,  it  had  sent  a 
thrill  of  comfort  to  his  very  heart.  Poor 
little  mother !  He  stooped  down  and  kissed 
her  as  tenderly  as  if  she  were  Doris,  before 
he  went  to  bed.  "  Faint  heart  never  won 
fair  lady,"  he  said,  and  tried  to  laugh ;  but 
her  shock  of  delight  and  surprise  at  his  un- 
wonted caress  reflected  itself  back  to  him, 
and  as  he  stood  looking  down  at  her,  his  own 
eyes  were  suddenly  and  provokingly  blurred. 
She  was  so  little  and  frail  in  her  scant  old 
dress,  and  had  such  a  patient,  hard-worked 
look;  he  remembered  that  people  said  she 
had  been  a  pretty  girl.  He  wondered  if  he 
had  not  been  too  rough  for  her  sometimes ; 
she  was  the  kind  of  woman  that  cannot  stand 
alone,  and  wants  to  be  taken  care  of.  Con- 
found old  Lawton,  who  made  a  drudge  of 
her !  But  Dan  all  at  once  understood  why 
the  lonely  woman  had  been  persuaded  to 
yoke  herself  to  him.  After  all,  this  piece  of 
land  might  serve  a  good  turn.  And  Doris, 


168  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

—  was  she  really  waiting  for  him  to  speak, 
after  aU?  What  a  fool  he  had  been !  Her 
eyes  had  sought  his  face  pleadingly  when  he 
went  snarling  to  the  wagon  to  speak  to  her. 
It  was  long  to  wait  until  the  morrow ;  and 
the  white,  bright  moonlight  kept  him  awake, 
as  if  some  fate  insisted  on  prolonging  the 
delay.  The  wind  was  blowing  a  little,  and 
a  lilac  bush  outside  brushed  against  the  clap- 
boards just  as  it  did  when  he  was  a  boy. 
Sometimes,  even  then,  he  used  to  lie  awake 
and  think  of  Doris  Owen,  and  he  remem- 
bered a  dream  which  had  seemed  very  real : 
for  the  boy  Israel,  his  dear  playmate,  had 
come  to  him,  —  not  in  his  soldier  clothes, 
but  wearing  his  old  school-boy  jacket  and 
boyish  face,  —  and  stood  by  the  bedside,  and 
begged  him  to  go  and  live  at  the  farm.  Dan 
Lester  had  gone  to  the  war,  too ;  he  had 
seen  his  playmate  fall,  and  had  dragged  him 
back  within  the  lines  at  the  peril  of  his  own 
life.  His  thoughts  were  rarely  so  busy  as 
in  this  still  night,  as  he  grew  by  turns  hope- 
ful and  fearful  of  his  fate. 


XIV. 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  Dale  disap- 
peared from  the  farmhouse,  meaning  to 
spend  most  of  the  day  out-of-doors.  Doris's 
boat  did  not  usually  leave  its  anchorage  on 
Sunday,  so  he  borrowed  it  without  hesita- 
tion, and  drifted  seaward  with  the  ebbing 
tide  along  the  winding  highways  of  the 
marshes,  changing  his  point  of  view  just 
fast  enough,  and  idly  watching  the  clouds 
and  the  landscape  in  his  slow  progress.  He 
was  not  uncomfortable,  leaning  back  against 
an  oar  which  he  had  put  behind  him  across 
the  boat,  and  he  wielded  the  other  oar  skill- 
fully to  push  the  light  craft  off  the  shore, 
against  which  it  not  seldom  came  to  a  full 
stop.  The  country  was  brilliant  with  au- 
tumn tints,  and  often  the  glimpses  of  it  were 
charming  to  his  eyes  ;  for  the  water  was  low 
in  the  creeks,  and  the  black  mud  at  the 
sides,  topped  by  the  still  luxuriant  bending 
grasses,  made  a  pleasant  framing.  The  day 
promised  to  be  not,  but  it  was  cool  weather 


170  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

in  the  deep  channels,  and  he  had  a  sense  of 
being  sheltered  and  hidden  securely.  The 
great  dragon-flies  followed  him,  as  if  they 
had  left  everything  in  their  surprise  and 
excitement,  and  sometimes  three  or  four 
alighted  together,  glistening  against  his  dull- 
colored  clothes  like  fairy  marauders  in  full 
armor.  As  he  leaned  over  the  side  of  the 
boat,  the  small  fishes  and  occasional  crabs 
did  not  seem  disturbed  by  the  gliding 
shadow ;  they  might  have  thought  it  a  nat- 
ural part  of  their  calm  existence,  until  the 
plash  of  an  oar  sent  them  off  in  alarm. 
After  half  the  morning  was  spent,  this  lei- 
surely navigator  found  himself  fairly  strand- 
ed at  an  absurdly  short  distance  from  the 
Marsh  Island  ;  but  the  tide  being  almost 
out,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  ashore 
and  wait  for  it  to  rise  again.  The  bank 
sloped  conveniently,  and  he  scrambled  up 
and  providently  pulled  the  light  dory  after 
him,  and  fastened  the  painter  to  a  bush.  He 
had  often  looked  across  from  the  farm  up- 
lands to  this  smaller  island  in  the  salt  grass ; 
but  it  was  larger  than  he  had  fancied  it,  and 
the  beech  and  oak-trees  had  reached  a  good 
size,  and  were  dropping  their  ungathered 
nuts  into  the  thickets  and  coarse  grass  be- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  171 

neath.  Two  or  three  squirrels  scolded  at 
him  from  a  safe  distance.  He  seated  him- 
self in  the  shade,  and  looked  across  the  level 
reaches  of  the  sea-meadows,  which  had  begun 
to  shimmer  in  the  summer-like  heat.  The 
small  beech-trees  that  grew  near  made  the 
light  purple  and  soft  that  fell  on  the  frayed 
whitish  carpeting  of  their  last  year's  leaves, 
and  presently  he  grew  drowsy,  and  turned 
over  to  put  his  arm  under  his  head ;  and 
there  he  lay,  sound  asleep,  at  his  lazy  length, 
—  a  fair,  untroubled  knight,  one  would  say, 
though  his  mind  had  lately  perplexed  itself 
harshly  enough. 

The  country  wagons  had  just  rattled 
churchward  along  the  East  Road,  their  two 
seats  crowded  full  for  the  most  part,  with 
small  children  wedged  between  the  grown 
people,  much  hotter  than  was  comfortable 
already.  For  a  wonder,  Doris  had  pleaded 
fatigue,  and  announced  her  intention  of  stay- 
ing at  home.  It  was  a  long  drive  to  the  vil- 
lage, and  Israel  Owen  and  his  wife  decided 
to  spend  the  noon  at  a  cousin's,  as  was  not 
infrequently  their  custom.  Temperance 
Kipp  always  passed  the  day  of  rest  with  her 
sister,  and  Jim  Fales  had  gone  to  his  moth- 
er's, a  mile  or  two  away.  Doris  would  keep 


172  A  MARS/I  ISLAND. 

house,  she  said.  There  was  always  a  cold 
lunch  at  noon  on  Sundays  at  the  farm.  No- 
body knew  when  Mr.  Dale  would  be  likely 
to  return,  and  the  unused  horses  had  been 
led  out  early  to  join  their  four-footed  com- 
panions in  the  pasture.  There  would  really 
be  nothing  to  do.  Martha  Owen  looked 
over  her  shoulder  once  or  twice  at  Doris,  as 
she  drove  away.  The  girl  seemed  unlike 
herself,  and  had  been  pale  and  intent  ever 
since  she  came  home  from  Sussex,  though 
she  answered  her  mother's  questions  about 
the  expedition,  and  even  her  interview  with 
Dan  Lester,  with  her  usual  frankness.  The 
more  the  elder  woman  revolved  in  her  mind 
Temperance's  bit  of  news,  the  more  respect 
she  was  inclined  to  pay  it.  Dan  Lester  was 
almost  like  one  of  themselves  already,  though 
she  had  not  been  pleased  with  him  of  late ; 
he  would  be  very  well  off  now.  The  castles 
in  the  air,  of  which  she  had  fancied  young 
Dale  the  ruler,  began  to  betray  their  unsub- 
stantial foundation,  and  Dan's  cause  ven- 
tured to  assert  a  likeness  to  the  bird  in  the 
hand  which  is  valued  by  all  persons  of  dis- 
qretion.  And  when,  at  a  cross-road,  they 
met  Dan  in  his  shining  new  buggy,  driving 
his  mother  to  meeting,  Mrs.  Owen  gave  him 
a  most  friendly  salutation. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  173 

Alas  that  Dan,  disappointed  at  seeing  the 
vacant  place  on  the  front  seat  beside  the 
kind  old  farmer,  should  have  fancied  the 
greeting  to  be  one  of  exultation  and  defi- 
ance, or  approval  of  the  fact  that  Doris 
had  stayed  at  home,  to  enjoy  the  artist's 
company. 

Doris  had  seen  Dick  Dale  turn  to  the 
eastward  as  he  went  up  through  the  orchard, 
and  instinctively  set  her  own  face  to  the 
westward  when  she  also  wandered  out-of- 
doors.  The  house  had  seemed  hot,  for  a 
wonder,  and  the  crickets  and  their  relations 
of  the  harsh  voices  chirped  and  hissed  with 
August -like  fervor  outside  the  windows. 
She  tried  to  read,  but  presently  the  paper 
slid  to  the  floor,  and  as  she  passed  out  of  the 
door  the  old  clock  ticked  louder  than  usual, 
as  if  it  were  calling  her  back :  "  Don't  — 
Do  —  ris  —  don't  —  Do  —  ris,"  but  she  will- 
fully went  away,  for  all  that.  She  did  not 
like  the  stillness  of  the  old  place,  —  an 
empty  house  of  that  age  grows  full  of  the 
presences  that  are  felt,  but  not  seen,  —  and 
she  kept  on  her  way  steadily  up  the  hill,  and 
left  the  doors  open  behind  her,  so  that  who- 
ever chose  might  go  in  and  keep  holiday. 


174  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

This  was  true,  that  she  felt  the  vague  pain 
and  sense  of  discomfort  which  are  apt  to 
foretell  the  great  changes  of  our  lives.  She 
wished  that  her  existence  might  have  swept 
on  in  the  familiar  fashion  of  which  she  had 
never  complained.  Was  love  a  happiness, 
or  life  a  satisfaction,  or  friendship  a  cer- 
tainty, if  Dan  Lester,  whose  affection  had 
been  so  constant  and  so  evident,  could  doubt 
her  and  shame  her  before  a  stranger  ?  The 
gentleness  and  courtesy  of  Mr.  Dale  himself 
might  be  safer  qualities  to  rely  upon.  She 
had  neither  promised  Dan  anything  nor 
given  him  cause  for  jealousy.  There  was  no 
need  that  he  should  call  to  her  in  the  way 
he  did  before  the  haymakers,  that  night  at 
the  landing,  but  she  had  been  sorry  enough 
if  she  had  shown  unkind  resentment.  In- 
deed, she  could  think  of  a  dozen  times  when 
she  had  spoken  with  more  impatience,  and 
even  slighted  him  and  teased  him  far  more. 
Why  could  not  people  be  more  generous  to 
you  when  they  loved  you  than  when  they 
were  simply  friends  ?  She  could  not  forgive 
Dan's  surliness.  If  she  had  cared  less  for 
him,  she  would  not  have  gone  to  him  there 
in  Sussex ;  and  the  blood  crimsoned  her 
cheeks  at  the  thought  of  such  undeserved 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  175 

humiliation.  The  natural  instinct  that  had 
waited  and  reached  out  unconsciously  for  a 
lover  was  wounded  and  thrust  back,  to  be 
recognized  with  shame  and  sorrow.  Doris 
Owen  was  a  woman  who  would  be  compara- 
tively useless  in  a  solitary  life.  Hers  was 
a  nature  incomplete  without  its  mate,  and 
incapable  of  reaching  its  possible  successes 
alone.  She  had  been  more  ready  to  make 
the  great  choice  than  she  thought,  and 
nearer  the  solution  of  the  problem  which 
•now  seemed  entirely  new  and  strange.  Per- 
haps it  was  necessary  that  she  should  appar- 
ently take  a  step  backward  and  approach  the 
crisis  again  before  consenting  irrevocably  to 
her  fate. 

Doris  felt  rather  than  thought  these  things 
as  she  climbed  the  easy  ascent ;  she  would 
have  been  too  much  shocked  if  her  true  ideas 
had  been  put  into  words.  Where  the  hill 
grew  steeper,  she  changed  her  direction,  and 
left  the  shade  of  the  great  apple-trees  to  go 
through  the  peach  orchard.  Here  the  sun- 
shine was  steeping  everything  through  and 
through  ;  the  fruits  stored  it  away,  and  in 
return  gave  out  into  the  air  something  of 
their  fine  fragrance  and  mellowness.  The 
slender  trees  were  filled  with  a  rare  vigor 


176  A   MARS/1  ISLAND. 

and  elasticity,  and  held  up  their  too  heavy 
burden  of  half -faded  leaves  and  delicate 
laden  branches  as  if  they  were  getting  a 
new  lease  of  life.  The  thick  grass  was  spot- 
ted with  brilliant  windfalls,  and  bees  went 
buzzing  by,  rich  with  their  plunder  from 
this  late  harvest.  Doris  walked  lightly 
among  the  company  of  trees,  and  presently 
her  drooped  head  was  also  lifted  up,  as  if 
the  kind  sun  had  drawn  and  strengthened 
it,  and  her  face  began  to  free  itself  from 
clouds,  like  a  clearing  sky.  A  fair  young 
girl  of  out-door  growth  and  flower-like  fash- 
ioning, a  sweet-faced  wife  for  any  man  to 
win  and  cherish,  she  passed  fleet-footed  over 
the  autumn  grass.  Her  light  dress  flitted 
between  the  peach-trees  and  hid  itself  be- 
hind the  hedge-row  of  hazel-nut  bushes  and 
young  wild-cherries.  At  last  Doris  stood  on 
a  high  slope,  a  white  figure  against  the  blue 
sky,  where  the  sea-breeze  found  her;  and 
since  the  inland  country  looked  warm  and 
inhospitable,  this  zephyr  turned,  and  went 
no  further. 

There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  go 
back  to  the  house  for  a  long  time  yet.  Her 
half -outgrown  childish  love  of  wandering  far 
and  wide  took  possession  of  her,  and  remem- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  177 

Bering  all  in  a  moment  that  the  beech-nuts 
on  the  small  island  nearest  her  must  be 
nearly  ripe,  and  that  the  tide  was  out,  she 
went  slowly  down  the  pasture  and  across  the 
marsh.  She  had  told  Mr.  Dale  once  that 
she  thought  the  most  beautiful  time  of  the 
year  was  the  late  spring,  when  the  marshes 
were  growing  green,  but  her  own  country- 
side never  had  seemed  more  delightful  than 
it  did  that  Sunday  morning.  She  questioned, 
with  pain  and  foreboding,  if  she  must  ever 
leave  it.  She  put  aside  so  needless  a  fear, 
and  was  grateful  to  the  stranger  within  the 
gates  for  teaching  her  by  his  own  delight  to 
see  the  beauty  that  she  had  never  half  under- 
stood. Doris  wondered  where  he  had  gone, 
—  he  was  sure  to  be  keeping  one  of  the  ten 
commandments  and  doing  no  work.  .  .  . 
They  could  not  be  too  thankful  to  so  kind  a 
friend,  who  valued  their  friendship  and  ser- 
vice beyond  what  it  was  worth,  and  returned 
it  in  every  way  thrice  over.  He  was  like 
the  young  men  in  the  best  stories  that  Doris 
knew,  —  she  had  often  told  herself  that,  — 
and  her  heart  gave  a  little  flutter  of  uncer- 
tainty. Poor  Dan !  he  was  really  just  as  kind 
at  heart  and  full  of  pleasant  thoughts  ;  but 
he  was  a  country  fellow,  and  lacked  the  ways 


178  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

of  the  world  and  the  gift  of  ready  speech. 
She  could  not  think  what  had  made  him  be- 
have so  strangely,  and  the  recent  hurt  began 
to  ache  again. 

The  noonday  sun  was  very  hot,  after  all, 
and  she  was  glad  at  last  to  reach  the  shelter 
of  the  spreading  trees  of  the  little  island. 
The  young  beeches  at  the  edge  of  the  thicket 
were  turning  yellow,  but  inside  they  were 
untouched  by  frost  or  ripening.  The  oaks 
were  dull  red  here  and  there  on  the  outer 
branches,  and  Doris  laughed  at  a  squirrel 
which  felt  it  necessary  to  perch  on  a  fallen 
tree  and  menace  her  with  whisking  tail  and 
indignant  chatter.  The  squirrels  had  :il- 
ways  acted  as  if  this  island  were  their  own  ; 
it  was  a  favorite  trapping-ground  of  Israel's. 
She  gathered  some  late  blackberries,  as  she 
went  pushing  her  way  through  the  tangle  ; 
she  well  remembered  a  grassy  place  under 
the  largest  beech  on  the  seaward  side,  where 
the  air  might  be  cooler.  Just  as  she  could 
look  out  through  the  drooping  boughs  at  the 
bright,  hot  levels  beyond,  she  was  startled 
at  the  sight  of  the  bow  of  her  own  small 
white  boat  with  the  blue  stripe,  drawn  up 
on  the  bank  of  the  narrow  creek,  and  here, 
almost  at  her  feet,  lay  Mr.  Richard  Dale, 
sound  asleep. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  179 

She  turned  instantly,  but  the  rustle  and 
cracking  of  the  bushes  had  waked  him.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  looking  quite  stupid  and 
amazed,  and  slowly  caught  a  spider  that  was 
spinning  down  from  his  hair.  Then  he  re- 
gained his  wits  entirely,  and  looked  at  his 
disturber  with  a  laugh.  "  Where  did  you 
come  from,  Doris  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  must 
have  taken  the  hay  -  boat ;  the  other  was 
gone,  so  I  had  to  steal  yours.  The  tide 
must  be  quite  out  by  this  time." 

"The  tide  is  coming  in,"  said  the  girl. 
"  I  must  hurry  back,  or  I  cannot  cross  some 
of  the  low  places.  I  walked  over  the  marsh ; 
it  is  n't  very  far,  and  easy  enough  if  you 
only  know  the  way.  When  the  tide  is  half 
high,  you  must  take  a  longer  way  round." 

"  I  should  lose  myself,  at  any  rate,"  an- 
swered Dick ;  "  at  least,  I  should  never  es- 
cape by  land.  There  is  something  mysteri- 
ous about  the  marshes  to  me.  Sit  down," 
he  said,  more  gently.  "How  hot  it  has 
grown  !  Why  not  wait  until  the  creek  fills 
again,  and  we  can  go  back  in  the  boat  to- 
gether? I  am  by  no  means  sure  I  know  the 
way  ; "  at  which  they  both  laughed,  and  felt 
more  at  ease.  Dick  shook  himself  like  a 
wet  dog ;  he  was  adorned  with  dead  leaves 


180  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

and  bits  of  twig,  and  sleepy  yet,  if  the  truth 
were  told.  Then  he  sat  down  on  the  grass, 
and  Doris  followed  his  example,  and  as  she 
leaned  back  against  the  beech-tree's  broad 
trunk,  she  was  not  displeased  with  the  un- 
expected turn  of  affairs.  Dick  picked  up 
a  sound  beech-nut  that  some  squirrel  had 
dropped  by  mistake,  and,  cutting  off  one  of 
the  trig  three-cornered  sides,  offered  it  to  his 
guest. 

"  I  wish  I  had  brought  some  peaches,"  she 
said.  "  I  just  came  through  the  orchard." 

"  It  was  very  odd  that  we  both  should 
have  come  to  this  same  spot  of  ground,"  the 
young  man  observed  meditatively.  "  Some- 
times I  think  there  are  all  sorts  of  powers 
and  forces  doing  what  they  please  with  us, 
for  good  or  bad  reasons  of  their  own." 

"  We  are  taught  to  believe  that  one  power 
is,  are  n't  we  ?  "  asked  Doris  timidly.  "  But 
always  for  our  own  good." 

"  Yes,"  slowly  assented  Dick,  as  if  the 
fact  were  not  always  so  clear  to  him  as  he 
wished  ;  and  then,  with  renewed  interest,  "  I 
always  liked  the  notion  of  our  having  guar- 
dian angels.  I  should  like  to  know  if  it  is 
true  ?  " 

Doris  flushed  :  she  was  not  used  to  talk- 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  181 

ing  in  a  familiar  way  of  such  grave  subjects, 
but  she  could  not  help  answering,  "  I  al- 
ways have  thought  so  ever  since  I  was  a  little 
girl,"  she  began  hesitatingly.  "It  always 
seems  as  if  there  were  one  angel  who  follows 
me  all  the  time,  and  tries  to  keep  me  back 
when  I  ana  going  to  do  wrong,  and  is  set  to 
take  care  of  me.  Don't  you  know  "  —  and 
she  became  very  earnest  —  "  that  when  you 
forget  things,  or  can't  remember  where  you 
leave  things,  something  outside  yourself  re- 
minds you?  Not  your  memory  or  your  con- 
science ;  something  outside  you,"  Doris  re- 
peated. "  I  wonder  if  we  don't  have  friends 
in  the  unseen  world." 

"  Perhaps,"  the  young  man  said  gravely. 
"  I  really  don't  know  why  not."  He  was 
touched  by  the  strange  beauty  of  Doris's  face 
now  when  she  was  deeply  moved.  She  was 
paler  than  usual,  even  after  her  walk;  she 
was  like  another  creature  from  the  busy 
week-day  girl  who  went  and  came  with  the 
elder  women  at  the  farmhouse.  She  almost 
always  had  a  grave  sweetness.  There  was 
surely  a  most  uncommon  quality  in  both  her 
nature  and  her  father's. 

"  Doris,"  said  Dick,  in  a  brotherly  way, 
'•  I  think  you  did  not  like  roe  when  I  first 
came  to  the  farm." 


182  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

Doris  was  silent.  Then  he  glanced  up,  to 
find  her  looking  at  him  with  surprise  and 
bewilderment ;  it  might  have  been  because 
she  was  called  back  unkindly  from  some 
reverie. 

"  I  did  not  know  you,"  she  answered.  "  I 
hardly  thought  about  you  until  you  hurt  your 
foot.  But  we  are  all  so  glad  you  came,  now  ; 
it  has  been  a  great  deal  of  company  for 
father,  and  mother  gets  very  tired  of  doing 
the  same  things  over  and  over.  I  think  she 
would  like  to  live  where  there  is  more  going 
on." 

"  Would  you  like  that,  too  ?  "  asked  Dick 
softly,  and  then  was  persuaded  that  Doris's 
belief  in  a  spiritual  guardian  was  well  found- 
ed ;  he  felt  such  an  unexpected  sense  of  re- 
monstrance. 

"  No,  indeed,"  answered  Doris  simply. 
"  I  like  home  better  every  year ; "  and  sud- 
denly an  invisible  quality  in  the  air,  a  subtle 
intoxication  that  had  something  to  do  with 
Dick's  question,  sent  its  influence  into  Do- 
ris's heart,  and  for  the  first  time  she  could 
not  look  Dick  in  the  face.  She  wondered 
how  she  might  escape,  not  so  much  from  him 
as  from  her  appalling  self. 

There  was  a  terrible  silence,  and  the  longet 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  183 

it  continued  the  more  convicting  it  grew. 
Dick  Dale  did  not  speak  again,  —  he  did  not 
know  what  hindered  him ;  in  that  moment 
his  heart  beat  very  fast.  Was  Doris  wait- 
ing to  hear  his  voice?  Was  this  his  fate 
and  happiness,  and  was  his  future  in  this 
woman's  keeping? 

The  breath  of  enchantment  was  quickly 
gone,  and  they  became  their  familiar  selves 
again,  yet  with  a  difference.  Dale,  at  any 
rate,  felt  a  faint  sense  of  mistake  and  disap- 
pointment, and  went  away  without  a  word 
when  Doris  said  that  she  thought  they  must 
go  back  now,  if  the  boat  would  float  in  the 
creek.  She  looked  at  him  appealingly  as 
he  helped  her  to  her  place,  and  only  smiled 
when  he  demanded  the  oars  which  she  had 
taken. 

"  I  have  not  rowed  for  a  long  time,"  she 
said  in  excuse,  and  pulled  with  strong,  steady 
stroke,  as  if  it  were  a  relief  and  welcome  de- 
fense against  threatened  discomfort.  "  You 
would  not  know  the  meadows  in  winter,"  she 
said  once.  "  They  look  so  dead  and  deso- 
late, with  great  black  cracks  in  the  ice,  like 
scars ;  and  at  night  you  can  hear  a  noise 
as  if  the  tide  were  caught  and  trying  to  get 
itself  free.  I  am  always  so  glad  when  the 


184  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

gulls  and  crows  are  thick,  and  it  is  getting 
near  to  spring." 

"  No,"  said  Dale  to  himself,  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  could  stand  the  long  winter.  Town 
is  the  place  when  the  snow  comes."  But  he 
wished,  none  the  less,  that  he  could  make  the 
winter  delay  its  coming.  He  did  not  like 
to  have  Doris  row  the  boat,  and  a  great  in- 
security and  indecision  took  possession  of 
him.  Should  he  dare  to  speak  to  Doris  ? 
He  wondered  what  he  would  think  of  it  to- 
morrow ;  but  he  called  himself  a  coward,  as 
they  landed  a  little  later,  and  he  walked  back 
to  the  still-deserted  farmhouse  by  her  side. 
The  old  place  had  arrayed  itself  against  him 
while  he  had  been  away.  He  felt  curiously 
distinct  and  separate  from  his  surroundings 
just  then,  and  yet  as  if  he  must  use  all  his 
powers  of  resistance  if  he  would  keep  him- 
self apart.  Did  fate  mean  to  graft  him  to 
this  strong  old  growth,  and  was  the  irresist- 
ible sap  from  that  centre  of  life  already 
making  its  way  through  his  veins  ?  Was  an 
unlocalized,  a  disestablished  human  being  at 
the  mercy  of  a  possible  system  of  spiritual 
economies,  so  that  he  was  to  be  held  to  a  spot 
that  was  lacking  in  what  he  might  supply? 
If  a  man  did  not  see  his  duty  and  opportu- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  185 

nity  with  his  own  eyes,  must  he  be  attracted 
by  a  magnet-like  necessity  ?  But  what  was 
this  broken,  nay,  even  mutilated,  household 
to  him,  even  though  the  strange  suggestion 
of  his  likeness  to  the  young  soldier  who  lay 
in  the  orchard  burying-ground  would  flit 
through  his  bewildered  mind?  There  was  a 
new  glamour  over  everything :  at  one  moment 
he  reveled  in  it,  and  then  as  suddenly  feared 
and  distrusted  it,  while  a  faint  indignation 
returned  again  and  again  and  troubled  him 
because  he  had  been  thus  taken  by  surprise. 

All  the  time  that  Dale's  thoughts  were  at- 
tacking him  like  an  angry  and  desperate  mob, 
Doris  walked  at  his  side,  so  sweet  and  self- 
possessed,  so  staid  and  Sunday-like,  that  her 
presence  was  the  only  thing  that  quieted  the 
confusion  she  herself  was  making.  Never 
before  had  this  girl  looked  so  slender  and 
full  of  life,  so  kissable  and  dear.  Presently 
she  turned  toward  him  with  almost  perfect 
composure ;  there  was  only  a  little  look  of 
affectionate  solicitude  to  show  that  they  had 
just  come  a  long  way  nearer  each  other's 
consciousness. 

"  I  will  go  up  to  the  orchard  and  get  some 
peaches  for  your  lunch,  Mr.  Dale,"  she  said. 
"  The  best  ones  are  just  getting  ripe  ; "  and 


186  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

Doris  went  away  slowly  up  the  hillside, 
through  the  long  autumn  grass,  into  the 
shadow  of  the  fruit-trees.  Dick  could  not 
follow  her,  but  for  some  minutes  he  stood 
still.  What  a  picture  for  a  man  to  paint ! 
What  a  woman  for  a  man  to  love !  Ah,  if 
Doris  had  looked  over  her  shoulder  in  that 
minute !  But  the  white  dress  was  lost  among 
the  shady  apple-trees,  Dick  sighed,  and  well 
he  might ;  the  enchantress  had  passed  by, 
and  her  spell  had  passed  with  her.  An 
eager  song -sparrow  flew  upward,  singing 
bravely,  and  for  once  the  blessed  notes  jarred 
upon  the  young  man's  ear. 

He  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  spinning- 
room.  The  light  southwesterly  wind  sent  a 
cloud  of  cigar-smoke  through  the  northeast- 
erly window  after  a  few  minutes,  and  as 
Doris  came  down  the  hill  she  saw  this,  and 
smiled.  A  little  later  she  brought  some 
bread  and  a  blue  plate  full  of  great  crimson 
and  yellow  peaches,  and  put  them  on  the 
table.  Dick,  who  held  a  book  in  his  hand, 
nodded,  and  thanked  Doris  politely,  but  she 
had  already  turned  away.  She  was  hardly 
at  the  foot  of  the  steep  stairway  before  he 
had  left  his  chair  and  dropped  the  book  on 
the  floor.  He  stood  still,  eager,  irresolute. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  187 

Was  he  a  fool  or  a  wise  man  ?  —  but  he  saw 
her  no  more  that  afternoon.  There  was 
enough  else  to  do.  He  had  letters  to  an- 
swer, for  one  thing;  but  Dick  could  not 
write  ;  he  kept  making  dots  and  squares  and 
curious  little  marks  with  his  pen  all  over  the 
blotting  paper,  instead.  Neither  could  he 
read,  for  he  heard  the  ripe  apples  fall  to  the 
ground,  and  saw  a  gray  spider  spin  its  web 
and  lie  in  wait  for  flies.  At  last  he  heard 
the  elder  Owens  drive  into  the  yard,  and 
bravely  appeared  as  a  listener  to  the  news 
they  had  brought  home  from  meeting.  A 
strange  pleasure  filled  his  heart  at  the  sight 
of  Israel  Owen's  honest  face.  The  good 
man  seemed  more  familiar  to  him  than  he 
did  to  himself. 


XV. 

SUNDAY  evening  was  apt  to  be  given  to 
social  advantages  at  the  Marsh  Island.  The 
farmhouse  had  been  for  many  years  a  fa- 
vorite gathering-place  of  the  few  neighbors, 
and  in  the  old  days  the  Owens'  tall  clock 
had  served  as  a  frequent  and  formal  excuse 
for  the  appearance  of  various  sociable  ac- 
quaintances. A  clock  of  such  high  rank 
must  necessarily  rule  all  timekeepers  of 
lesser  degree  by  the  autocratic  sway  of  its 
leisurely  pendulum  ;  and  once  in  a  while 
somebody  would  still  ask,  with  noticeable 
humility,  for  the  right  time,  or  set  the  hands 
of  a  cumbrous  silver  watch,  by  way  of  tril>- 
ute,  in  the  clock-room. 

The  elder  Owens,  Israel  and  Martha,  with 
Temperance  Kipp,  returned  tired  and  dis- 
pirited from  their  day's  devotions,  but  a  com- 
fortable early  supper  had  refreshed  them ; 
and  Doris  had  seemed  so  entirely  like  her- 
self that  when  Dick  Dale  came  strolling  up 
from  the  garden  with  his  cigar,  and  heard 


A  MARSH  ISLAND,  189 

the  sound  of  voices,  he  joined  the  cheerful 
company  without  a  moment's  reflection.  A 
luxuriant  growth  of  petunias,  still  unhurt  by 
frost,  had  made  the  old  garden  deliciously 
fragrant,  and  in  the  dim  light  he  could  see 
the  flowers'  pale  faces  glimmering  at  his 
feet.  He  picked  one  which  gained  his  spe- 
cial attention,  and  gave  it  to  Doris  as  he  en- 
tered the  room.  A  heavy  dew  was  falling 
outside,  and  the  company,  for  almost  the 
first  time  that  autumn,  had  forsaken  the 
broad  side-door  step  altogether.  When  Dick 
had  first  come  to  the  farm,  his  presence  had 
been  a  serious  hindrance  to  the  undisturbed 
flow  of  mild  discussion  and  neighborhood 
news,  but  now,  after  a  slight  pause  and  cor- 
dial greeting,  he  was  allowed  to  seat  himself 
by  one  of  the  windows  without  note  or  com- 
ment. Old  Mrs.  Bennet,  the  last  arrival, 
was  still  out  of  breath,  and  presently  ex- 
plained to  the  new-comer  that  she  always 
used  to  walk  the  distance  between  her  house 
and  this  in  ten  minutes,  easy  ;  but  now  she 
had  to  hurry  along,  in  order  to  accurately 
compare  the  difference  of  the  clocks. 

Temperance  Kipp  regarded  Mr.  Dale  with 
keen  eyes.  She  had  taken  up  the  neglected 
championship  of  Dan  Lester  with  more  de- 


190  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

cision  than  before,  since  she  had  seen  his 
discouraged  face  that  morning  in  church. 
He  looked  thinner  than  usual,  and  alto- 
gether was  very  appealing  to  her  tender 
heart.  Even  the  news  of  his  increase  of 
fortune  had  not  made  him  light  -  hearted, 
though  his  mother  had  exchanged  a  confid- 
ing and  pleased  glance  with  her  old  friend, 
as  she  sat  in  one  of  the  side  pews,  not  very 
far  away. 

Dale  watched  Temperance  herself  with 
uncommon  pleasure  that  evening.  He  had 
always  liked  her  face,  which  had  a  great 
deal  of  sympathy  and  wise  understand  ing 
in  it ;  for  the  first  time  he  recognized  a  re- 
semblance, which  had  always  baffled  and 
puzzled  his  memory,  to  Holbein's  portrait  of 
Sir  Thomas  More.  He  was  a  little  amused 
and  surprised  at  this ;  he  would  have  liked 
Bradish  to  see  her,  as  she  sat  in  a  high- 
backed  rocking-chair.  Bradish  was  very 
fond  of  the  Holbein.  "  Ah,  well,  I  must  be 
getting  back  to  town  soon,"  the  young  man 
assured  himself,  and  then  moved  his  own 
chair  a  little,  as  if  he  wished  to  hear  what 
was  being  said  of  the  morning's  sermon,  but 
in  reality  to  command  a  better  view  of 
Doris.  He  was  not  infrequently  bored  by 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  191 

the  theological  disputes  of  Israel  Owen  and 
his  neighbor  Churchill,  who  was  a  received 
authority  on  some  questions,  being  a  dea- 
con of  the  first  parish.  This  controversy 
was  evidently  almost  over  with.  "  Speakiii' 
about  the  Lord  knowin'  them  that  are  his," 
said  Israel  Owen,  in  an  unsteady  voice,  "  it 
makes  a  good  text  to  enlarge  upon  for  a 
minister  ;  but  when  you  come  to  put  it  right 
home,  deacon,  there  's  precious  few  for  him 
to  know.  Folks  ain't  so  common  that  bears 
him  any  great  likeness  that  he  can  make 
friends  of.  Plenty  of  us  is  growing  towards 
him,  and  kind  of  stirring  about  some ;  but 
it  's  a  mercy,  as  I  view  it,  that  we  've  got 
another  life  to  continue  the  upward  way. 
If  we  can  only  git  started  whilst  we  're  here, 
that 's  about  all  we  can  do,  most  on  us." 

The  deacon  grumbled  something,  which 
might  be  an  assent,  and  might  not.  His  own 
preference  was  for  more  inflexible  condem- 
nations and  harsher  definitions  of  the  con- 
dition of  fallen  man  ;  but  somehow  he  never 
could  bring  his  arguments  to  bear  when 
Owen  took  this  tone.  "  I  don't  wonder, 
when  I  look  about  me,  that  folks  ain't  bet- 
ter," the  old  man  concluded  ;  "  the  'stonish- 
inent  to  me  is  that  they  ain't  wuss.  When 


192  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

you  take  in  what  folks  have  inherited  down 
from  gineration  to  gineration,  and  how  some 
are  weak  in  body  and  some  in  mind,  't  is  a 
wonder  a  good  many  is  so  decent  behaved 
as  they  be." 

But  the  deacon  did  not  like  to  think  of 
the  practical  achievements  of  himself  and 
his  brethren,  —  the  abstractions  and  distinc- 
tions of  certain  doctrines  were  a  much  bet- 
ter liked  subject ;  and  he  was  relieved  when 
a  tall  figure  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and 
Dan  Lester  looked  in,  with  a  touch  of  de- 
fiance on  his  face. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  Dan  !  "  said  the 
farmer.  "  Where  've  you  kept  yourself  these 
weeks  past  ?  I  did  n't  know  but  you  was 
put  out  about  something.  Did  n't  overdo, 
haying,  did  ye  ?  I  Ve  hardly  seen  ye  since. 
Doris,  git  Dan  a  seat.  We've  got  consid- 
er'ble  of  a  meetin'  here,  but  there  's  chairs 
enough.  Step  out  to  the  entry,  Doris,  or 
fetch  one  right  in  from  the  kitchen." 

Doris  had  risen  at  the  guest's  approach, 
and  they  stood  together  in  the  room  for  one 
awkward  minute,  with  the  rest  of  the  people 
watching  them.  It  takes  little  time  for  such 
a  neighborhood  to  scent  out  the  smallest  ex- 
citement ;  and  the  curiosity  to  know  if  there 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  193 

were  anything  between  Doris  and  Dan  of 
an  unpleasant  nature,  or  any  prospect  of  a 
love  affair  between  her  and  Dale,  had  led 
two  or  three  of  the  guests  to  pay  this  even- 
ing visit. 

Dick  Dale  had  sometimes  been  vastly  en- 
tertained by  such  a  Sunday  evening  gather- 
ing. He  liked  the  quaint  talk  and  pictur- 
esque expression  of  the  elder  people,  and  had 
more  than  once  wished  that  he  were  a  writer, 
and  could  profit  by  the  specimens  of  a  fast- 
disappearing  dialect.  This  night,  however, 
there  was  a  strange  influence  of  excitement 
and  expectancy.  He  was  inclined  to  resent 
Dan  Lester's  coming  to  the  farm  in  that 
self-sufficient  way,  after  his  late  treatment 
of  Doris.  He  knew  well  enough  that  she 
had  been  grieved  by  it.  Dear  Doris,  what 
a  shame  it  would  be  to  let  her  waste  her- 
self among  such  unappreciative  people  !  He 
should  like  to  hear  what  some  of  his  ac- 
quaintances would  say  if  they  saw  her,  — 
and  this  irate  admirer  proposed  to  himself 
to  go  out-of-doors  again,  yet  lingered,  be- 
cause it  might  appear  that  he  was  unfriendly 
to  his  rival. 

"  They  always  came  to  our  funerals,"  Mrs. 
Bennet  was  saying,  in  a  reproachful,  low 
U 


1^4  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

voice  to  the  other  women,  "  but  they  kind 
of  hung  off  about  it,  too,  and  did  n't  step 
right  to  the  front  and  jine  in  at  such  a  time, 
as  the  Maxwells  did,  and  others.  'T  ain't 
what  I  call  being  related  to  folks." 

"  They  ain't  folks ;  they  're  nothin'  but 
a  pack  o'  images,"  proclaimed  Temperance 
Kipp,  in  a  tone  that  admitted  no  contradic- 
tion. 

Dick  laughed  at  this ;  the  other  listeners 
turned  their  heads  to  look  at  him  half  sus- 
piciously, yet  with  great  good  huuior.  Pres- 
ently, seeing  that  the  full  moon  must  be 
near  its  rising,  he  left  his  seat  by  the  win- 
dow, and  went  out.  He  did  not  notice  the 
appealing  glance  of  Mrs.  Owen ;  in  fact, 
there  was  no  trace  of  any  such  feeling  in 
Dale's  heart  as  that  of  being  driven  off  the 
field.  He  was  simply  doing  his  own  pleas- 
ure, and  leaving  the  good  souls  to  theirs. 
A  minute  afterward  there  was  a  shout  of 
laughter  from  the  clock-room  which  made 
him  wince.  One  naturally  thinks  one's  self 
the  injured  subject  of  mirth  at  such  a  mo- 
ment. Then,  as  he  turned,  he  saw  two  fig- 
ures come  out  of  the  door-way,  Doris  and 
Dan  Lester,  who  had  sat  just  inside,  and 
who  were  also  tempted  to  stroll  out  into  the 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  195 

soft  night  air.  As  Dick  looked  and  listened, 
the  old  farmer  and  his  crony  moved  their 
chairs  into  the  square  side-entry,  and  the 
women  passed  to  and  fro  in  the  clock-room, 
as  if  they  were  drawing  nearer  together  for 
a  season  of  gossip. 

The  great  willows  made  huge  masses  of 
darkness  against  the  starlit  sky ;  the  lights 
in  the  house  cast  a  network  of  long  shadows 
before  their  rays.  Dick  Dale  leaned  upon 
the  garden  fence,  and  watched  the  yellow 
harvest  moon  as  it  rose  above  the  misty 
shrouding  of  the  earth.  The  outline  of  the 
hill  looked  hard  and  more  distant  than  the 
moon  itself.  He  could  hear  a  faint  sound 
of  the  sea  and  an  occasional  laugh  from  the 
house.  By  and  by  Doris  and  Dan  came 
back  again.  The  grass  had  been  wet  the 
way  they  went,  but  indeed  they  seemed  in- 
different to  their  surroundings,  and  went 
walking  to  and  fro,  while  the  resentful  spec- 
tator kept  his  chosen  station.  He  thought 
that  anybody  might  see  him  who  looked  that 
way,  being  as  conscious  of  his  own  presence 
in  the  landscape  as  if  it  had  been  broad  day- 
light. 

Even  Doris,  who  knew  every  outlook  so 
well,  did  not  see  that  any  one  stood  this 


196  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

side  of  the  withered  sunflowers.  She  won- 
dered once  or  twice  which  way  Mr.  Dale  had 
gone ;  but  since  his  lameness  was  cured,  he 
had  often  been  out  until  late  in  the  evening, 
and  let  himself  into  the  house  after  every 
one  else  was  asleep.  He  was  a  revelation 
to  her  in  many  ways,  with  his  knowledge  of 
books  and  his  love  for  nature.  She  felt  a 
sense  of  wider  liberty  with  Mr.  Dale  than 
with  any  one  else  she  knew,  and  believed 
in  the  possible  treasures  of  experience  and 
knowledge  that  lay  far  beyond  the  horizon 
that  she  was  able  to  discover. 

To-night  Dan  Lester  was  very  gentle,  al- 
most pathetic,  but  strangely  compelling.  As 
he  came  into  the  room,  earlier,  her  heart 
gave  a  great  bound  of  relief  and  affection. 
Now,  as  he  spoke  with  eager  impatience,  as 
he  stood  close  beside  her,  and  she  could 
just  see  his  familiar  features  and  mark  his 
height  against  the  dim  western  sky,  she 
would  have  been  thankful  to  find  a  way  of 
escape.  She  did  not  stop  to  question  his 
right  to  call  her  to  account,  neither  did  she 
answer  him  when  he  humbly  condemned  his 
own  wrong-doing  of  the  day  before.  Yes, 
he  loved  her  ;  there  was  no  doubt  about  the 
truth  of  his  faithful  kindness  to  her,  or  his 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  197 

endless  care  and  tenderness,  —  she  knew 
that  without  his  telling  it  so  tempestuously. 
She  wished  he  would  cease  his  entreaties. 
She  could  not  speak  in  reply  ;  she  felt  dumb 
before  her  inevitable  fate  when  Dan  told  her 
of  her  father's  favor  toward  him,  weeks  ago, 
as  they  were  on  the  south  marsh  together, 
one  August  morning. 

The  lover's  story  did  not  touch  her,  after 
all ;  it  seemed  quite  outside  her  heart,  and 
could  not  find  a  way  in.  Doris  grew  more 
and  more  weighed  down  with  a  sense  of  this 
grave  business.  She  felt  a  strange  impulse 
to  throw  herself  into  poor  Dan's  brotherly 
arms,  and  beg  him  to  defend  her,  as  if  this 
distress  had  come  from  any  one  but  himself. 
A  vision  of  Dick  Dale's  boyish  face,  with 
the  strange,  sweet  look  it  had  worn  for  an 
instant  that  day,  came  to  her  mind,  and  gave 
her  a  fancied  courage  and  protection.  She 
turned  away  from  Dan  with  a  sigh  and  feel- 
ing of  reprieve.  "  Don't  think  hard  of  me, 
Dan  ;  there  's  time  enough,"  she  faltered, 
and  then  hated  herself  for  so  heartless  a 
wording.  "  I  must  go  in.  No,  don't  keep 
me,  Dan.  I  do  think  everything  of  you.  I 
always  have  "  —  and  the  girl's  heart  felt  as 
if  it  would  break  with  sorrow  and  despair. 


198  A    MAHSH    INLAND. 

Strange  to  say,  she  did  not  think  of  Dick 
Dale  any  more,  but  of  Dan  himself  instead. 
She  wondered  if  he  would  speak  again.  Her 
heart  softened,  and  though  he  had  gone  away 
a  step  or  two  she  felt  as  if  he  were  drawing 
her  toward  him  through  the  darkness. 

Then  a  thin  figure  appeared  beside  them, 
and  hesitated,  as  if  reluctant  to  intrude.  "  I 
guess  you  two  had  kind  of  dry  scratching 
coming  up  the  crick  this  mornin',"  said  Jim 
Fales,  by  way  of  pleasantry ;  "  tide  was 
pretty  low  when  I  see  you.  I  set  out  to 
cross  over  and  tell  you  to  land  on  the  pint 
where  the  big  pitch-pine  is ;  it  ain't  much 
further  to  walk,  when  the  ma'sh  is  dry ;  " 
and  he  hurried  on,  being  later  than  was  his 
wont,  and  anxious  to  report  to  his  employer. 

Doris  could  not  say  a  word.  Dan  Li-st.-r 
muttered  something  under  his  breath,  and 
strode  away.  The  girl  looked  after  him, 
took  a  few  steps  as  if  she  meant  to  follow 
him;  then  she  stood  still.  "Oh,  Dan, 
Dan!"  she  whispered,  almost  aloud.  "  He 
is  so  quick ;  what  made  me  let  him  go !  " 
But  as  love  and  pride  fought  together  in  her 
perplexed  mind,  the  footsteps  were  gone  out 
of  hearing,  down  the  long  road,  the  long, 
long  road,  into  the  dreary  darkness. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  199 

Later,  the  moon  was  round  and  bright  in 
the  sky ;  the  cheerful  sound  of  voices  grew 
louder,  and  the  guests  were  making  ready  to 
depart.  "  I  guess  the  young  folks  is  phi- 
landerin'  off  somewhere,"  said  Mrs.  Bennet, 
as  she  stood  on  the  doorstep.  Doris  met  her 
bravely,  but  she  was  not  good  at  dissem- 
bling, and  lingered  in  the  shadow  outside 
the  door.  Dan  had  gone  home,  she  told  the 
waiting  audience ;  he  had  to  be  off  early  in 
the  morning,  as  they  knew.  But  Temper- 
ance grumbled  that  he  might  have  said 
good-night,  coming  as  seldom  as  he  had 
lately.  She  looked  narrowly  at  Doris's  pale 
face,  and  resolved  to  have  a  talk  with  her 
before  they  slept.  As  for  Doris's  mother, 
she  began  to  wonder  if  the  girl  had  been 
foolish  or  hasty.  Dan  would  be  well  off 
now ;  and  after  all,  Doris  would  never  like 
any  place  so  well  as  the  farm,  —  the  love  for 
it  was  born  in  her.  Dan  had  treated  Mrs. 
Owen  very  civilly  as  he  came  in,  but  he  was 
resenting  her  smiling  salutation  of  the  morn- 
ing more  than  ever  at  that  moment,  if  she 
had  only  known  it. 

Later  still,  Dick  Dale  appeared.  The 
night  was  growing  very  damp  and  chilly,  he 
told  his  friends.  He  wondered  what  Lester 


200  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

had  asked  and  what  Doris  had  answered, 
but  Doris  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The 
farmer  was  fastening  the  doors  and  win- 
dows. "We  used  to  leave  everything  open 
in  warm  weather,"  he  said,  "  but  times 
have  changed  since  the  war.  Good-night, 
my  lad !  "  And  so  that  day  was  ended. 


XVI. 

NEXT  morning  the  farmhouse  seemed 
quite  unlike  the  scene  of  an  excitement  of 
any  sort.  The  walls  kept  many  a  secret 
already,  and  the  old  homestead  concerned 
itself  only  in  providing  a  shelter  and  resting- 
place  for  its  children.  Mrs.  Owen  was  sing- 
ing one  of  yesterday's  psalm-tunes  in  a  high, 
energetic  voice,  and  sometimes  Temperance 
might  be  heard  also,  in  a  more  subdued  key, 
grumbling  out  some  unattractive  refrain  of 
an  air  she  did  not  know  very  well.  Out- 
of-doors  the  apple-picking  had  begun.  The 
farmer  had  always  looked  forward  to  Jim 
Fales's  superior  usefulness  at  this  season. 
Jim  was  at  this  moment  near  the  top  of 
the  high  fall-sweeting  tree,  and,  apparently 
impatient  with  his  charge  of  hand-picking 
the  fruit,  shuffled  it  into  his  basket  with  all 
the  haste  possible.  As  he  pushed  his  way, 
head  and  shoulders,  through  the  topmost 
branches,  his  eyes  beheld  Mr.  Dale  at  the 
spinning  -  room  window,  near  by,  and  the 


2U2  A    MARSH   ISLAND. 

friends  exchanged  as  cordial  and  ceremo- 
nious greetings  as  if  they  had  not  parted 
from  each  other  at  the  breakfast  table  three 
quarters  of  an  hour  before. 

"  See  here,"  said  Jim  confidentially,  after 
having  carefully  surveyed  the  world  beneath 
him,  "  was  it  you  was  talking  to  Doris,  as  I 
come  in  the  yard  last  night  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Richard  Dale  gravely.  "  No, 
it  was  not  I,"  he  repeated,  gazing  with  much 
interest  at  his  questioner's  countenance, 
which  suddenly  looked  like  a  clock-face  that 
has  lost  its  hands. 

"  I  thought  I  'd  ask.  I  had  some  mis- 
givin's  before  the  words  had  left  my  mouth," 
the  youth  explained,  and  all  at  once  drew 
back  within  the  green  boughs,  and  was  lost 
to  sight.  Presently,  with  much  difficulty, 
he  transferred  the  clumsy  ladder  to  a  tree 
still  closer  to  the  window,  and  climbed  it 
with  an  empty  basket,  as  if  the  path  of  duty 
led  that  way,  and  no  other.  Dick  was  in- 
clined to  resent  this ;  the  brilliant  color  of 
the  fruit  had  delighted  his  eyes,  and  there 
was  little  of  it  left,  at  any  rate.  He  felt  a 
sudden  pang  as  Jim  rustled  about  among 
the  leaves,  and  hated  him  as  he  selected  a 
fair  apple  and  began  to  devour  it  with  evi- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  203 

dent  satisfaction.  "  I  think  there  ain't  110 
such  cripsy  ones  on  the  place  as  them,"  he 
announced.  "  Have  one  ?  "  and  he  twisted 
another  from  the  tree,  and  gave  it  a  leisurely 
toss  at  the  window,  where  Dick  barely  suc- 
ceeded in  catching  it.  The  invasion  of  his 
favorite  outlook  made  him  impatient.  He 
put  the  apple  on  the  window-sill,  and  took 
up  his  book  again,  as  if  he  did  not  mean  to 
be  interrupted.  This  harvesting  hinted  at 
the  spoiling  of  his  beloved  surroundings. 
Somehow,  there  had  been  so  slight  and 
amiable  a  change  in  the  landscape  and  the 
weather  itself,  that  Dick  had  not  been  led  to 
think  of  an  end  of  his  pleasant  arrangements 
and  his  sunshine  holiday.  He  sighed,  as  if 
he  were  obliged  to  go  back  to  a  veritable 
treadmill,  and  presently  looked  out  of  the 
window  again.  The  green  old  apple-tree, 
with  its  flecks  of  red  fruit,  had  been  a  very 
lovely  thing  to  look  at  against  the  blue  and 
white  September  skies,  and  when  he  first 
discovered  the  spinning  -  room  the  apples 
were  little  more  than  half  grown. 

Jim  had  been  on  the  alert  to  catch  the 
least  sign  of  renewed  attention,  and  said 
softly,  leaning  toward  his  listener,  "  I  had  it 
right  over  about  seeing  you  an'  Doris  out  in 


204  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

the  boat  yisterday  forenoon.  Dan  Lester 
must  have  been  fit  to  swear.  He  can't  abide 
that  anybody  should  look  at  Doris  but  him. 
We  roughed  him  fearful  one  day  down  on 
the  ma'sh,  when  we  was  getting  the  salt  hay 
in." 

"  He  's  a  good  fellow,  is  n't  he  ?  "  asked 
Dale,  as  carelessly  as  possible. 

"  First-rate,"  replied  Jim,  with  another  sur- 
vey of  the  immediate  neighborhood.  "  Folks 
has  wondered  a  good  deal  that  him  an'  Do- 
ris is  so  slow  about  gettin'  things  settled ; 
but  land !  folks  must  have  something  to  work 
over  in  their  minds.  I  don't  expect  she  sets 
half  so  much  by  him  as  he  does  by  her,  any 
way,"  he  added  confidentially.  Jim  Fales 
admired  the  new  resident  of  the  Marsh 
Island  with  all  his  heart.  Dale  had  been 
very  friendly  with  the  young  fellow,  and 
seemed,  to  one  person  at  least,  quite  the 
hero ;  but  now  he  felt  that  there  was  danger 
of  disloyalty  if  this  conversation  were  al- 
lowed to  go  on.  His  desire  to  hear  all 
that  Jim  was  more  than  ready  to  say  was 
promptly  quenched,  as  he  gave  a  careless 
nod  to  the  Romeo  at  his  balcony,  and  re- 
treated to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  He 
had  been  told  nothing  jet  that  he  was  sur- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  205 

prised  to  hear,  but  an  undefined  dread  arose 
lest  there  should  be  some  evident  recognition 
of  his  own  personal  interest  in  the  tale. 

Somehow,  Dick  was  not  inclined  toward 
painting  ;  his  interest  in  that  once-absorbing 
avocation  had  been  dwindling,  of  late.  No 
wonder ;  he  had  never  done  so  many  good 
bits  in  the  same  length  of  time  before.  The 
sketch  of  Doris  did  not  seem  so  necessary 
and  inevitable  as  it  had  once,  for  Doris  her- 
self claimed  the  better  part  of  his  thoughts. 
Doris  as  she  had  looked  at  him  yesterday 
under  the  great  beech-tree  was  never  to  be 
forgotten,  and  a  strange  thrill  went  over 
him  at  the  remembrance.  She  was  very 
sweet  and  silent  and  busy  that  morning, 
and  the  temptation  came  to  him  to  win  this 
little  kingdom  of  the  world  and  the  glory  of 
it.  He  must  take  Doris  away  from  her  own 
world,  — that  would  be  the  trouble  ;  he  cer- 
tainly was  possessed  of  no  gifts  or  qualifica- 
tions for  tilling  the  soil.  He  smiled  as  he 
whispered  to  himself, 

"  His  highest  plot 
To  plant  the  bergamot," 

and  wondered  if,  with  all  his  experience  and 
a  half  weariness  and  impatience  of  the  fash- 
ionable world,  he  should  make  the  worst  sort 


206  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

of  country  gentleman.  His  imagination  flew 
quickly  about  the  old  farm.  Delightful  as 
it  was,  it  might  be  made  infinitely  more  at- 
tractive. Dick  almost  loved  Doris's  father, 
but  he  was  not  so  pleased  with  the  thought 
of  her  mother,  though  this  was  followed 
with  a  quick  self-reproach.  He  could  not 
disguise  the  fact  that  there  was  a  tinge  of 
unreality  over  all  these  uncharacteristic  vis- 
ions of  himself.  He  must  go  away  soon, 
and  leave-  Doris  to  her  true  lover.  She  had 
looked  very  troubled  once  or  twice  that  day. 
After  all,  he  did  not  believe  in  making  him- 
self miserable ;  but  at  that  moment  the 
thought  of  Dan  Lester's  triumph  made  Dick 
amazingly  angry.  Why  should  such  a  beau- 
tiful creature  as  Doris  be  degraded  into  an 
ordinary  country  housekeeper,  and  lose  the 
better  sort  of  love  and  favor  and  true  knowl- 
edge of  life?  It  must  not  be  ;  the  young 
man's  heart  beat  fast  with  a  new  inspiration. 
If  Doris  loved  him  and  he  loved  her,  they 
would  face  the  future  together,  and  his  face 
grew  pale  as  he  stood  still  in  the  little  studio, 
looking  straight  forward,  but  seeing  nothing 
for  a  moment ;  then  the  radiant  bubble  had 
burst,  and  all  that  was  left  was  the  same 
uncertainty  and  vexation  of  spirit  as  before. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  207 

"James,"  old  Mr.  Owen  was  saying  un- 
der the  window,  "  I  thought  you  had  better 
pick  those  fall-sweetings  first." 

"They  was  covered  with  dew,  sir,"  re- 
sponded the  defendant.  "  There  ain't  but  a 
few  of  these,  and  then  I  'm  going  back  to 
finish.  The  sun  strikes  here  earlier,"  and 
Jim  began  a  self-satisfied  whistling,  as  he  let 
a  slender,  unburdened  branch  rustle  back 
into  place. 

Dick  spent  a  miserable,  wandering  day. 
He  felt  unpardonably  thrown  off  his  track, 
and  as  if  he  must  not  allow  such  weakness 
and  foolishness.  He  might  have  made  a 
fool  of  himself  on  a  good  many  occasions, 
but,  thank  Heaven,  he  had  always  behaved 
like  a  man,  and  not,  as  now,  like  a  silly 
woman.  It  was  difficult  even  to  announce 
his  determination  to  go  back  to  town  the 
next  week,  and  this  distressed  knight  strayed 
about  the  familiar  places  of  the  farm  as  if 
he  were  bidding  them  farewell.  It  was  an 
afternoon  to  be  laughed  at  heartily  some 
day,  —  he  knew  himself  well  enough  to  be 
sure  of  that ;  but  a  sigh  followed  this  reflec- 
tion, which  was  more  than  likely  to  be  re- 
peated. 


xvn. 

LATER  in  the  day  Dick  came  through  the 
clock-room,  and  stopped  a  moment  to  look 
for  a  book.  There  was  a  noise  of  strange 
voices  outside,  and  just  as  he  reached  the 
outer  door  some  one  knocked  hurriedly,  —  a 
fumbling,  unaccustomed  sort  of  knock.  It 
must  be  confessed  that  he  recognized  with 
something  like  a  shock  the  familiar  figure 
on  the  broad  doorstep. 

"  For  pity's  sake,  Richard,  how  came  you 
here  ? "  exclaimed  this  unexpected  guest, 
forgetting  for  the  moment  her  evidently  ex- 
citing errand,  as  she  gazed  at  her  nephew  in 
complete  astonishment.  "  I  believe  I  never 
was  so  thankful  to  see  you,"  she  went  on, 
without  waiting  for  any  explanation.  "•  We 
have  lost  our  way,  though  I  was  sure  that  I 
knew  the  right  turn.  You  see  this  is  a  new 
coachman  "  (tone  nearly  inaudible,  but  more 
spirited).  "Johnson  became  so  unreliable 
that  I  had  to  dismiss  him,  after  fourteen 
years'  service.  I  believe  we  have  broken 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  209 

the  bolts  of  the  victoria  "  (louder),  "  and  I 
was  really  in  despair ;  I  have  already  walked 
quite  a  long  distance.  Do  find  somebody  to 
look  at  the  carriage  and  see  if  it  will  be 
safe  to  drive  home  ;  we  have  promised  to 
dine  with  the  Chaunceys  this  evening.  You 
surely  remember  Mrs.  Farley  ?  —  May  I  pre- 
sent my  nephew,  Mr.  Dale  ?  I  have  n't  the 
slightest  idea  how  he  happens  to  be  here, 
but  I  really  never  was  so  glad  to  see  him 
in  my  life." 

The  very  buttons  of  the  new  coachman's 
new  coat  were  surprising  to  Mr.  Richard 
Dale,  but  to  such  emergencies  as  this  he  was 
more  than  equal.  He  bowed  smilingly  to 
Mrs.  Farley,  and  helped  her  to  alight,  and 
then  inspected  the  damaged  vehicle  under  the 
guidance  of  Johnson's  successor.  "  That 's  a 
very  simple  affair,"  this  useful  nephew  said, 
with  charming  reassurance.  "  Mr.  Owen  is 
sure  to  be  able  to  put  it  right  in  a  few  min- 
utes.' You  must  go  into  the  house  and  rest 
yourselves,  and  I  will  take  the  carriage  up 
the  yard." 

"  He  seems  entirely  at  home,"  meditated 
Mrs.  Winchester,  as  she  gave  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief and  turned  toward  her  friend.  Mrs. 
Farley  had  become  somewhat  impatient  with 


210  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

the  needless  excitement  and  fears  of  her 
companion,  who  had  been  behaving  as  if 
they  were  wrecked  among  cannibals.  She 
had  known  real  disasters  herself,  but  Mrs. 
Winchester  was  so  used  to  a  luxurious  rou- 
tine of  life  that  she  was  quite  helpless  in 
anything  that  approached  the  nature  of  an 
accident.  She  was  accustomed  to  the  oppor- 
tune appearance  of  her  gentlemen  friends, 
and  it  was  only  a  repetition  of  the  usual 
state  of  affairs  that  Dick  should  open  the 
farmhouse  door  for  her  when  she  was  over- 
whelmed with  anxiety  at  finding  herself  be- 
lated on  a  strange  road,  a  dozen  miles  from 
home. 

"  I  could  have  made  the  carriage  all  right, 
sir,"  said  the  distressed  servant,  as  soon  as 
they  were  out  of  the  ladies'  hearing.  He  evi- 
dently thought  it  best  to  forestall  reproach 
for  his  want  of  resource.  "  Mrs.  Winches- 
ter kept  telling  me  the  roads,  though  I  knew 
we  were  all  the  time  getting  too  far  from 
home,  please,  sir.  And  she  screeched  with 
fright  when  I  was  getting  down  from  the 
IH>X.  I  had  a  bit  of  stout  cord,  too.  I  am 
with  her  only  a  month,  sir,  or  I  'd  know 
every  road  within  reach." 

Dick  nodded  indulgently,  and  the  new  re- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  211 

tainer  held  himself  in  his  most  upright  and 
stiffly  effective  position  as  they  approached 
hospitable  Mr.  Owen,  who  was  quite  uncon- 
scious of  the  town-like  splendor  of  this  ap- 
pearance ;  and  wondering  Jim  Fales,  who 
was  nearly  overcome  with  awe  and  delight. 

As  for  Mrs.  Owen,  she  had  promptly 
come  forward  to  welcome  the  strangers,  af- 
ter first  having  watched  them  through  the 
kitchen  blinds,  with  a  temporary  loss  of  self- 
confidence.  The  ladies  were  much  pleased 
with  the  simple  hospitality  and  friendliness 
of  her  greeting,  and  presently  were  invited 
to  leave  the  sitting-room,  where  they  had  es- 
tablished themselves,  and  accompany  their 
hostess  to  the  best  parlor.  They  had  been 
delighted  with  the  clock-room  ;  but  the  par- 
lor, which  had  been  refurnished  by  good 
Mrs.  Owen  according  to  her  own  mistaken 
lights,  had  always  been  shunned  by  Dick 
with  ill-concealed  abhorrence,  and  was  now 
more  than  ever  damp  and  close,  and  per- 
vaded with  the  odor  of  its  woolen  carpet 
and  haircloth  upholstery.  The  blinds  were 
opened,  and  the  fading  light  of  day  entered 
somewhat  doubtfully.  Mrs.  Winchester  grew 
more  and  more  puzzled.  What  could  Dick 
mean  by  being  here,  evidently  quite  familiar 


212  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

with  the  household,  and  never  letting  her 
know  of  his  whereabouts  ? 

There  was  a  light  step  in  the  hall  outside ; 
somebody  pushed  back  a  chair  which  had 
been  moved  out  of  its  place  ;  then  a  young 
woman  stood,  surprised,  at  the  best  room 
door. 

Mrs.  Farley,  who  was  ready  at  conversa- 
tion, and  a  most  sympathetic  soul,  had  been 
describing  their  wanderings  and  distress  to 
her  new  acquaintance.  Now  she  noticed  a 
new  look  of  interest  in  her  auditor's  pleasant 
face,  and  Mrs.  Owen,  without  waiting  for  a 
pause  in  the  narrative,  said,  with  motherly 
pride,  "  Come  in,  Doris,  do.  This  is  Mr. 
Dale's  aunt,  and  —  I  did  n't  catch  the  other 
lady's  name?  They  met  with  an  accident, 
and  lost  their  way  besides.  Yes,  I  'm  sure  it 
was  confusing,"  she  added  encouragingly  to 
Mrs.  Farley,  who  showed  no  desire  to  con- 
tinue, and  just  then  met  Mrs.  Winchester's 
confidential  and  most  meaning  glance  and 
gesture  with  an  amused  smile. 

Doris  hesitated  on  the  threshold  ;  she  was 
never  awkward,  but  who  would  not  have 
quailed  now?  She  had  not  heard  the  vis- 
itors enter,  but  the  next  instant  she  had 
taken  her  place  beside  them,  and  was  even 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  213 

busy  with  thought  for  their  comfort.  The 
place  displeased  her  strangely  ;  these  guests 
dismayed  her.  "  Would  n't  you  like  to  go 
up  to  the  room  Mr.  Dale  has  used  for  his 
studio?"  she  asked,  with  sudden  self-reli- 
ance. "  I  am  sure  he  will  want  to  show  you 
his  pictures." 

The  ladies  rose  with  alacrity;  and  pres- 
ently Dick  turned  from  a  consultation  with 
Mr.  Owen  and  the  coachman  to  see  them 
coming  up  the  yard.  "  That  was  very  clever 
of  Doris,"  he  said  to  himself  gratefully,  and 
nodded  to  them  as  they  disappeared.  Mrs. 
Owen  was  of  the  party,  and  almost  directly 
the  delinquent  nephew's  ears  caught  the 
sound  of  delighted  exclamations.  Then  he 
saw  Doris  come  down  the  steep  outer  stair- 
way of  the  spinning- room,  looking  preoccu- 
pied, and  go  quickly  by,  stopping  to  confer 
with  Temperance,  whose  head  emerged  from 
one  of  the  kitchen  windows. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  saw  the  fair  daughter 
of  the  house  returning  with  a  white-covered 
tray  of  fruit  and  cakes.  These  dear,  good 
people !  this  lovely  Doris!  He  was  glad 
enough  when  his  part  of  the  work  was  done, 
and  he  could  join  the  pleased  and  pacified 
company. 


214  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

"  This  is  very  kind  of  you,  to  make  my 
shipwrecked  friends  so  comfortable,  Mrs. 
Owen,"  he  said.  Dick's  aunt  thought  he 
had  never  been  so  handsome.  Doris  looked 
at  him,  and  felt  as  if  he  were  again  a 
stranger.  She  had  needed  only  this  hint 
and  visible  evidence  of  his  previous  life  and 
associations  to  disengage  herself,  as  it  were, 
from  a  sense  of  entire  familiarity. 

"You  will  have  the  moon  to  light  you 
home,  if  you  wait,"  Dick  was  saying.  "  I 
do  not  think  that  you  need  hurry  away.  I 
have  told  the  coachman  a  much  shorter  road 
back.  He  seems  an  excellent  fellow.  I 
wonder  that  you  risked  your  life  so  long 
with  Johnson." 

"  You  should  have  followed  the  short  road 
yourself  long  ago,  Dick,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
chester. "  But  I  will  not  scold  you,  after 
seeing  these  sketches.  You  never  began  to 
do  anything,  so  charming.  I  dare  say  that  I 
am  quite  faithless  about  the  new  man,"  she 
went  on,  "  but  since  I  have  found  you  I 
mean  to  lay  claim  to  you.  We  cannot  pos- 
sibly get  home  before  evening :  the  horses 
are  very  slow ;  you  know  that  you  always 
make  fun  of  them.  Dick,  you  really  must 
go  back  with  us,  and  I  will  send  you  over  as 
early  as  you  like  in  the  morning." 


A   MARSH   ISLAND.  215 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  sincerity  and 
insistence  of  Mrs.  Winchester's  plea,  and 
her  nephew  consented,  though  without  en- 
thusiasm. Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well,  after 
all,  and  a  little  later  he  found  himself  spin- 
ning along  the  East  Road  on  the  box  of  the 
victoria.  The  maligned  horses  were  much  ex- 
cited at  their  unusual  delay,  and  more  than 
anxious  for  their  supper.  Mrs.  Winchester's 
thoughts  were  busy  now  with  hopes  of  reach- 
ing home  in  time  for  her  evening  engage- 
ment, all  other  perplexities  having  been  dis- 
persed. 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  let  me  have 
butter,  another  year  ?  "  she  asked  once,  with 
sudden  eagerness  ;  but  Dick  was  sure  that 
he  did  not  know,  and  she  concluded,  from 
his  evident  lack  of  interest,  that  the  butter 
might  not  be  entirely  to  his  taste.  "  I  dare 
say  they  would  not  care  to  bring  it  so  far," 
Mrs.  Winchester  announced  magnanimously. 
In  spite  of  the  sketches,  she  could  not  help 
thinking  that  the  young  girl's  undeniable 
good  looks  had  something  to  do  with  Dick's 
going  into  retreat  in  such  a  determined 
fashion. 

The  western  sky  was  clear  and  shining 
after  the  sunset,  and  there  was  already  a 


216  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

glow  of  coming  moonlight  in  the  east  as  the 
belated  victoria  trundled  homeward.  The 
lamps  were  lit  in  one  wayside  farmhouse 
after  another,  the  shadows  were  gathering 
faster  and  faster  in  the  fields,  and  some 
tracts  of  woodland  were  dark  as  night  and 
cold  as  late  October  when  they  drove  under 
the  overarching  boughs.  The  two  ladies 
were  very  warm  and  comfortable  in  their 
wraps  ;  they  leaned  back  against  their  cush- 
ions, and  talked  together  in  low  voices  about 
the  house  and  the  people  they  had  just  left. 
They  were  pleased  with  their  adventure,  now 
that  all  danger  was  past,  and  it  seemed  a 
great  joke  that  Dick  should  have  been  dis- 
covered and  drawn  from  his  hiding-place. 
Mrs.  Farley  kindly  took  the  young  man's 
part,  and  spoke  of  his  work  with  admiration, 
but  his  aunt  amused  herself  with  little  jokes 
at  his  expense ;  therefore  Dick  himself  was 
conscious  of  a  great  liking  for  Mrs.  Farley, 
who  was  an  old  friend  of  his  mother's,  and 
had  lived  in  China  for  many  years.  Dick 
assured  himself,  with  sudden  satisfaction, 
that  it  would  not  be  such  a  bad  thing  to  go 
to  the  East  Indies.  Bradish  and  he  had 
often  talked  about  it.  Nothing  could  give 
Bradish  a  better  chance ;  it  was  exactly  in 
his  line. 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  217 

Mrs.  Winchester,  after  a  long  pause,  re- 
peated an  accusation  about  Dick's  love  for 
peaches.  He  had  stolen  some  once  which 
had  been  procured  at  vast  expense  for  a  din- 
ner party,  and  he  was  an  altogether  unami- 
able  nephew  as  he  turned  half-way  round 
to  wave  a  deprecatory  hand  at  his  accuser. 
Aunt  Susan  was  a  kind-hearted  creature,  and 
was  considered  very  clever  by  her  friends. 
Dick  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  had 
heard  her  talk  charmingly  to  other  people  ; 
but  somehow  she  usually  treated  him  like  a 
school-boy,  and  they  were  not  apt  to  enjoy 
each  other.  Why  need  she  hunt  up  all  those 
silly  old  stories  of  his  infancy  every  time 
they  found  themselves  together?  He  wrapped 
the  thin  lap-rug  about  his  knees,  and  settled 
himself  into  his  place,  as  if  he  did  not  wish 
to  be  spoken  to  again.  It  was  strange  how 
entirely  out  of  sympathy  he  was  with  this 
change  of  scene. 

The  victoria  was  driven  into  its  own 
avenue,  after  a  while.  The  lights  were 
bright  in  the  great  house,  and  the  alarmed 
maids  came  hurrying  out  to  hear  what  had 
happened.  Dick  was  recognized  with  sur- 
prise, and  as  the  coachman  turned  the  horses 
away  from  the  door  one  or  two  comrades  ap- 


218  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

peared  from  behind  the  hedge,  and  walked 
beside  him,  asking  eager  questions. 

"  We  lost  our  way,  —  that  was  all,"  said 
the  mistress,  in  an  amiable,  clear  voice,  to 
the  little  audience.  "Luckily  we  found 
Mr.  Dale,  who  has  been  sketching,  and  he 
brought  us  home.  We  must  have  some  tea 
up-stairs  directly,  and  Mr.  Dale  will  have 
supper  presently  in  the  dining-room.  Dear 
me,  how  late  we  shall  be !  "  and  Mrs.  Win- 
chester and  her  guest  quickly  ascended  the 
long  staircase.  It  seemed  a  pity  that  their 
allegiance  to  society  did  not  permit  any  com- 
fort or  rest  at  that  moment.  A  great  fire 
was  leaping  and  crackling  in  the  wide  hall 
fireplace,  and  the  chairs  near  by  looked  most 
inviting.  Dick  chose  the  largest,  and  pulled 
it  close  to  the  hearth ;  he  heard  a  scurrying 
to  and  fro  up-stairs,  the  doors  were  opened 
and  shut  many  times,  and  his  aunt  once  re- 
called a  loitering  maid  impatiently  to  add 
further  directions  about  his  own  supper. 
She  had  been  annoyed  because  he  had  dis- 
obeyed her  command  to  bring  his  evening 
clothes,  and  had  reprimanded  him  sharply 
as  they  were  driving  homeward.  "  I  am  not 
in  any  mood  for  squiring  to-night,"  he  told 
himself,  and  smiled  to  think  what  joy  they 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  219 

would  have  presently  in  relating  their  adven- 
ture to  their  friends. 

The  ladies  came  rustling  down  ;  the  co- 
coons of  the  victoria  were  transformed  into 
moth -like  creatures  of  sober  splendors  and 
soft  raiment.  Here  and  there  they  glittered 
and  shone,  and  Dick  examined  them  with 
sudden  interest.  There  was  a  thinness  and 
poverty  about  the  dress  of  those  women  at 
the  farm,  compared  with  this  richness  and 
stateliness.  Doris  Owen  would  be  beautiful 
in  such  quiet  tints ;  the  simplicity  of  true 
elegance  would  suit  her  exactly. 

"  I  am  admiring  you  both  immensely," 
the  young  man  said.  "  I  have  been  quite 
unused  to  such  magnificence,  you  know." 

"  How  charming  it  was  at  the  farm  !  "  and 
Mrs.  Farley  smiled  at  him  in  a  most  sympa- 
thetic fashion.  "  I  shall  so  often  remember 
the  spinning-room  and  the  clock-room,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  What  a  pretty  idea  to 
make  that  your  studio!  But  you  ought  to 
have  kept  the  spinning-wheels,  and  asked  the 
rustic  maidens  to  come  and  whir  them  while 
you  painted." 

"  I  am  certain  that  the  peaches  won  the 
day,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Winchester,  with 
conscious  unconsciousness  and  a  good  deal 


220  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

of  emphasis.  "  It  was  all  very  picturesque, 
but  I  can't  imagine  your  being  contented 
there  for  a  month  or  more,  unless  you  hap- 
pened to  see  your  favorite  fruit  in  a  green 
state,  and  determined  to  wait  and  enjoy  it. 
But  I  am  heartily  pleased  about  the  sketches. 
I  can  see  every  one  now!  I  can't  forgive 
myself  for  leaving  that  delightful  bit  where 
the  two  little  white  sails  are  following  each 
other  through  the  green  marsh.  I  dare  say 
you  will  throw  it  away  upon  one  of  your 
cronies,  when  you  go  back  to  town." 

"  It  shall  be  yours  from  this  moment," 
Dick  responded  gallantly,  while  they  made 
little  bows  at  each  other.  The  aunt  was 
very  fond  of  him ;  and  indeed  he  returned 
her  unselfish  affection,  after  his  own  fash- 
ion. 

The  ladies  deplored  the  impossibility  of 
staying  at  home,  and  waited  impatiently  for 
things  they  had  forgotten  ;  finally  they  went 
out  into  the  moonlight.  "  I  should  never 
think  of  going  at  this  late  hour,"  said  the 
hostess,  "but  they  will  be  so  anxious  to 
know  what  has  become  of  us.  I  have  a  feel- 
ing that  we  shall  make  ourselves  very  inter- 
esting, my  dear.  They  would  be  disap- 
pointed not  to  see  you !  " 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  221 

Mrs.  Farley  gave  her  shoulders  a  little 
shrug.  She  did  not  think  these  neighbors 
very  amusing,  and  she  was  curious  to  know 
more  about  Mr.  Dick  Dale.  She  wished 
that  she  had  ventured  to  act  her  own  pleas- 
ure, and  send  a  regret  to  her  entertainers. 

As  for  Dick,  his  ears  had  caught  the 
sound  of  the  sea,  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway 
watching  the  ladies  drive  away.  He  lighted 
a  cigar,  and  went  across  the  grounds  to  a 
small  summer-house,  which  looked  ghostly 
and  felt  damp  ;  and  here  he  sat  at  the  edge 
of  the  high  cliff,  and  saw  the  familiar  coun- 
try, sea  and  shore.  The  moon  was  high  in 
the  sky ;  could  it  be  possible  that  he  saw  it 
only  last  night  as  it  rose  above  the  marshes  ? 
That  seemed  like  a  year  ago.  The  small 
fire  of  the  cigar  went  out,  and  the  world 
instantly  grew  large  and  exceedingly  cold  ; 
then  Dick  gave  a  great  shiver,  and  went 
back  to  the  house.  The  servant  who  met 
him  looked  displeased ;  they  had  been  look- 
ing for  him  everywhere,  and  his  supper  was 
waiting.  He  had  seldom  enjoyed  a  supper 
more  than  he  did  this,  but  once  or  twice  he 
looked  up,  and  was  obliged  to  recognize  the 
fact  that  he  had  expected  to  see  Doris  oppo- 
site him,  as  usual.  In  the  morning  he  would 


222  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

ask  his  aunt's  advice  upon  the  subject  of  a 
proper  gift  for  Mrs.  Owen.  But  that  night 
he  made  a  selection  of  new  books,  and 
marched  up  to  his  own  room  in  excellent 
season.  He  well  knew  his  aunt's  love  for  a 
bit  of  midnight  gossip,  and  he  was  not  sure 
of  his  answers  for  some  simple  questions 
which  she  would  be  sure  to  ask.  He  won- 
dered what  was  going  on  at  the  farmhouse  ; 
his  thoughts  kept  flying  in  that  direction, 
and  this  once  familiar  life  became  a  little 
strange  and  constraining. 

As  he  might  have  known,  the  Owens  were 
taking  great  pleasure  in  talking  over  the 
surprising  events  of  the  afternoon.  Doris 
alone  had  not  much  to  say.  Temperance 
was  considerably  displeased  because  one  of 
the  guests  had  offered  her  money,  just  as 
they  were  ready  to  begin  their  homeward 
drive.  She  had  refused  it  indignantly,  with 
the  information  that  she  had  done  nothing 
to  earn  it,  and  a  wise  suspicion  of  such  un- 
necessary patronage. 

"  I  suppose  that  was  her  way  of  showing 
gratitude,"  said  Doris,  with  a  sigh.  "  1  dare 
say  such  people  find  enough  who  are  ready 
to  take  pay  for  everything.  They  were  very 
pleasant,  I  'm  sure." 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  •    223 

The  farmer  looked  at  his  daughter,  as  he 
sat  reading  close  by  the  lamp.  This  was  the 
day  for  the  Semi-Weekly  Tribune,  and  he 
was  deeply  interested  in  a  political  argu- 
ment, but  he  did  not  go  on  with  it  directly. 
Doris  was  very  pale  to-night.  Something 
had  evidently  gone  wrong  with  her,  and  he 
accused  himself  of  being  neglectful  and 
thoughtless.  They  had  not  been  so  much 
together  as  usual  this  fall.  Doris  was  grown 
into  a  woman  now.  The  truth  flashed  upon 
him  that  she  was  no  longer  the  childish 
creature  he  had  loved  and  fondly  wished  to 
keep  beside  him.  Dan  Lester  had  behaved 
strangely,  but  he  was  a  high-strung  fellow, 
and  might  have  had  some  foolish  notions 
about  young  Dale.  He  would  stop  and  have 
a  word  with  Dan  to-morrow,  when  he  must 
go  through  Sussex.  Perhaps  he  would  take 
Doris  herself  along,  and  this  thought  gave 
Israel  Owen  great  pleasure.  Dan  was  the 
best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  seemed  like  a 
son  already.  Thero  was  no  need  for  his  tin- 
kering away  at  a  trade,  if  he  and  the  little 
girl  made  it  up.  Dan  had  uncommon  good 
sense  about  farming,  and  he  should  have  his 
way,  —  he  should  have  his  way.  A  sudden 
remembrance  of  the  little  flag  cauae  to  the 


224  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

farmer's  mind.  The  colors  of  it  were  faded 
now :  May  was  long  ago.  The  family  never 
had  gathered  round  the  evening  light,  in  all 
these  years,  that  the  father  had  not  sadly, 
and  as  if  for  the  first  time,  missed  his  son. 
To-night  they  had  established  themselves  in 
the  wide  kitchen,  after  supper  was  over ;  the 
clock-room  was  a  trifle  damp,  and  for  some 
reason  or  other  a  little  cheerless. 

Mrs.  Owen  was  still  revolving  the  news 
of  Dan  Lester's  good  fortune  in  her  mind, 
and  viewing  it  in  all  aspects.  She  had  been 
longing  to  ask  Temperance  certain  ques- 
tions, and  she  wondered  if  Dan  himself  had 
said  anything  to  Doris  the  evening  before  ; 
but  she  was  not  yet  ready  to  throw  her  long- 
cherished  opposition  and  objection  to  the 
four  winds.  As  if  she  were  afraid  of  being 
even  suspected  of  these  thoughts,  she  has- 
tened to  talk  about  the  afternoon's  guests 
again.  "  I  'm  real  glad  it  was  so  that  they 
saw  the  parlor,"  she  said  once,  in  a  gratified 
tone. 


XVIII. 

MR.  DALE  was  just  reflecting  that  he 
should  soon  be  very  sleepy  indeed,  and  that 
he  had  not  been  awake  so  late  for  several 
weeks,  when  a  sound  was  heard  outside  his 
door,  followed  by  a  light  knocking. 

44  Come  in  !  "  he  said  reluctantly,  and  then 
almost  laughed  aloud  at  the  innocence  and 
good-nature  of  his  aunt's  expression.  "  I 
might  have  known  she  would  not  let  me  off 
so  easily,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  rose  from 
his  comfortable  arm-chair  without  a  word,  as 
Mrs.  Winchester  entered,  though  he  looked 
as  if  he  were  ready  to  be  informed  of  so 
unseasonable  an  errand. 

44 1  knew  that  you  could  n't  be  asleep," 
declared  Mrs.  Winchester,  resuming  her 
beaming  expression,  which  had  been  aban- 
doned temporarily,  at  the  sight  of  the  flar- 
ing candles.  Dick  really  was  as  much  care 
as  when  he  was  ten  years  old  and  her  orphan 
ward.  "  I  thought  you  must  be  reading 
when  I  saw  the  bright  light,  as  I  came  up 

15 


226  A  MARSH   ISLAND. 

the  avenue.  The  Chaunceys  were  really 
quite  hurt  because  you  did  n't  make  your 
appearance.  Dinner  was  later  than  usual, 
—  at  any  rate,  only  the  soup  had  been 
served;  and  Will  Chauncey  was  detained  in 
town,  so  that  there  was  an  empty  seat  for 
you  next  Kate  Dent.  She  is  here  for  a  week 
it  seems.  I  always  thought  her  extremely 
handsome  and  attractive.  You  have  n't  seen 
her  since  she  returned  from  abroad  have 
you?" 

"  I  believe  not,"  answered  Dick  patiently. 

"  I  see  that  you  have  the  Village  on  the 
Cliff.  Was  there  ever  anything  so  charm- 
ing and  full  of  color ! "  pursued  the  little 
lady,  after  a  short  pause.  She  was  comfort- 
ably settled  in  a  low  chair,  and  was  taking 
a  careful  survey  of  her  nephew.  Really,  his 
clothes  were  much  the  worse  for  wear ;  he 
looked  not  unlike  a  farmer,  himself.  "I 
have  been  telling  everybody  what  a  lovely 
face  that  old  Mr.  Owen  has,"  she  continued 
enthusiastically.  "  I  wish  you  were  fond  of 
figure-sketching.  I  should  like  a  portrait 
of  him  immensely  ;  just  a  suggestion  of  all 
but  his  eyes,  you  know,  —  in  charcoal,  per- 
haps." 

"  All  but  his  eyes,"  repeated  Dick  cyn- 
ically. "  I  think  "  — 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  227 

"  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  she  laughed. 
"  Don't  be  superior,  Dick,  if  you  have  such 
a  misfortune  as  a  stupid  old  aunt.  I  meant, 
of  course,  that  his  eyes  are  so  fine  I  cared 
most  for  that  part  of  his  likeness.  He  has 
such  a  pathetic  expression  at  times.  A  most 
sincere,  kindly  old  man.  He  seems  very 
fond  of  you.  What  did  he  mean  by  telling 
me  that  you  bore  a  welcome  resemblance  ?  " 

"  He  thought,  when  I  first  went  there, 
that  I  was  like  his  only  son,  who  was  killed 
in  the  war,"  answered  Dick,  in  a  more  sym- 
pathetic tone  than  he  had  used  before.  "  I 
supposed  he  had  forgotten  about  that." 

"  And  the  old  handmaiden,  too.  Charity 
did  they  call  her  ?  No,  Temperance  !  She 
has  an  interesting,  blighted  sort  of  face. 
She  was  very  indignant  because  I  offered 
her  some  money.  I  suppose  it  was  rude  of 
me,  but  one  gets  so  used  to  that  way  of  ex- 
pressing gratitude  in  this  mercenary  world." 

"  You  must  wait  until  you  die  to  pay  your 
debts  to  your  friends  gracefully,"  announced 
the  host  of  the  occasion,  beginning  to  pace 
up  and  down  the  room.  It  was  a  familiar 
sign  of  his  impatience,  but  Mrs.  Winchester 
did  not  mean  to  be  dismissed  so  soon. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  she  said,  ap- 


228  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

parently  much  pleased.  "  Yes,  we  can  give 
money  to  whom  we  like,  —  it  is  the  way  we 
do  the  thing ; "  whereupon  Dick  came  and 
stood  before  his  aunt,  and  regarded  her  be- 
nignantly. 

"  Do  scold  me,"  he  said.  "  I  know  you 
are  tired  to  death,  aunt  Susy,  but  you  must 
do  your  duty  by  me  before  you  sleep.  I 
must  be  off  early  to-morrow.  I  have  set  my 
heart  upon  making  a  few  sketches  over  at 
Sussex." 

"I  have  always  wished  that  somebody 
would  do  that  very  thing.  To  me  it  is  the 
most  charmingly  picturesque  little  place. 
But,  Richard,  you  must  surely  give  me  a 
few  days  before  I  go  back  to  town ;  you 
used  to  like  to  stay  with  me.  And  this  year, 
of  all  others,  while  Nelly  and  the  children 
are  away,  and  I  have  missed  them  so  much, 
I  do  think  you  should  not  have  forgotten 
me." 

"You  always  have  such  a  houseful  of 
people,"  grumbled  Dick.  "Yes,  I  suppose 
I  can  come  for  next  week ;  or  you  may  put 
me  down  for  all  next  summer,  if  you  like 
that  better.  Don't  be  foolish,  aunt  Susan. 
You  always  have  laughed  at  me,  but  you 
never  must  let  me  make  you  sorry,"  and  he 


A    MARSH  ISLAND.  229 

laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  little  lace  cap 
and  soft  gray  hair,  and  then  turned  away 
quickly,  and  walked  over  to  the  window. 
"  What  bright  moonlight !  "  he  said.  "  Do 
go  to  bed,  aunt.  Be  friendly,  and  take 
yourself  off  now.  You  have  no  idea  how 
early  I  had  my  breakfast." 

"Dick,"  said  the  little  woman,  raising 
herself  to  her  full  height  and  coming  to 
stand  before  him,  —  "  Dick,  my  dear,  I 
begin  to  think  you  had  better  let  me  have 
your  traps  brought  here  to-morrow  or  next 
day.  I  don't  quite  like  your  staying  there 
any  more.  They  're  good  people  and  ever 
so  fond  of  you  ;  but  for  their  sakes,  and 
that  nice  girl's  sake  especially,  I  hate  to 
have  you  run  into  any  sort  of  danger.  I 
think  it  has  been  a  great  thing  for  you  in 
many  ways,  and  a  charming  experience  on 
the  whole  ;  but  believe  me,  you  had  better 
come  away.  I  really  should  be  hurt  if  you 
did  n't  come  to  me,  now  that  I  have  told  the 
Chaunceys  that  you  have  been  hiding  your- 
self so  near  me  for  weeks  and  weeks.  If 
you  were  a  girl  yourself,  I  should  feel  dif- 
ferently ;  but  with  your  good  looks  and  your 
fortune,  and  your  way  of  making  everybody 
like  you,  I  think  it  is  all  a  great  risk." 


230  A    MARSH   ISLAND. 

Dick  tried  to  laugh  at  this  determined 
charge,  but  at  that  moment  he  felt  as  a  girl 
might  truly  feel,  not  like  a  man.  "  I  am 
all  right,  thank  you,  dear  old  lady,"  he  said. 
"  Doris  has  a  lover  already,  if  that  is  what 
you  mean.  Perhaps  you  think  that  Tem- 
perance is  setting  her  nets." 

"  Good  old  soul !  "  responded  Mrs.  Win- 
chester, with  some  spirit.  "  I  won't  have 
you  make  such  low  jokes,  Dick." 

"  I  like  her,  myself,"  answered  the  young 
man,  angrily.  "  I  like  every  one  of  them  at 
the  island.  If  I  ever  amount  to  anything,  I 
shall  thank  those  sincere,  simple  people  for 
setting  me  the  example  of  following  my 
duty  and  working  hard  and  steadily.  I  wish 
sometimes  that  I  had  n't  two  cents  in  the 
world.  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life 
as  I  have  been  there  ;  nobody  ever  asked 
whether  I  was  rich  or  poor.  You  have  to 
be  put  into  an  honest  place  like  that  to 
know  anything  of  yourself.  You  can't  think 
how  tired  and  sick  I  am  of  the  kind  of  life 
I  have  somehow  drifted  into." 

"  I  have  always  felt  that  you  were  capable 
of  better  things,"  agreed  aunt  Susan,  much 
moved  by  the  gloomy  eagerness  of  her 
nephew.  "  But  now  that  you  have  had  your 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  231 

lesson  you  must  profit  by  it ;  you  would 
waste  yourself  even  more  if  you  stayed  long 
on  that  farm.  Think  of  your  opportunities  ! 
I  dare  say  you  have  found  time  for  thought, 
and  I  congratulate  you ;  but  what  are  you 
going  to  do  with  your  new  energy?  Dick, 
dear,  I  have  been  a  sort  of  mother  to  you. 
I  have  loved  you,  and  tried  to  make  up  for 
the  loss  of  your  own  mother.  Now  don't 
be  foolish  and  sentimental,  and  fall  in  love 
with  that  pretty  girl.  You  're  spasmodic ; 
you  're  led  by  your  enthusiasms.  I  think 
she  is  really  charming  to  look  at,  but  she  is 
not  a  fit  wife  for  you." 

"  Aunt  Susan,"  and  the  listener  to  these 
exhortations  faced  about  suddenly  from  the 
window,  "  Doris  Owen  is  the  most  beautiful 
woman  I  ever  knew.  She  's  capable  of  any- 
thing. She  is  not  inferior.  She  may  lack 
certain  experiences,  but  she  is  equal  to  meet- 
ing them.  She  is  a  fit  wife  for  any  man." 

"  Oh  dear,  dear!  "  groaned  aunt  Susan  at 
this  incomprehensible  nephew,  "  is  it  as  bad 
as  that?" 

"  Bad  as  what  ? "  said  Dick,  ready  to 
fight  for  his  rights.  "  Come,  this  is  too  late 
a  council ;  we  never  should  have  fallen  to 
discussing  such  things  by  daylight." 


232  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

"  You  must  tell  me  all  about  it.  How  far 
have  you  really  gone  ?  "  persisted  the  troub- 
led woman. 

"  Gone  ?  "  exclaimed  Dick  Dale.  "  I  have 
done  nothing  at  all.  If  you  wish  to  know 
whether  I  have  asked  Doris  Owen  to  be  my 
wife,  I  certainly  have  not.  And  nobody  but 
you  should  drive  me  to  the  wall  in  this  fash- 
ion, and  question  me  as  if  I  were  a  school- 
boy." 

Mrs.  Winchester  asks  to  be  forgiven. 
She  trusts  Dick,  and  tells  him  so.  She  has 
never  been  ashamed  of  him  yet.  All  these 
things  she  says  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  and 
then  bids  him  good-night,  and  goes  away. 
Dick  does  not  kiss  her,  after  his  old  fash- 
ion, though  she  wishes  he  would,  as  she  lets 
go  his  strong  hand  and  looks  at  him  an  in- 
stant before  she  flits  away  from  the  door, 
stepping  softly  along  the  hall  in  her  light 
little  shoes.  A  moment  after  it  is  too  late, 
Dick  is  sorry  he  did  not  give  her  the  kiss, 
and  then  he  considers  the  propriety  of  his 
last  statement.  He  liked,  after  all,  to  be 
treated  in  exactly  this  way ;  it  was  the  only 
bit  of  home  life  that  seemed  to  be  always 
his  own.  He  was  invariably  called  to  ac- 
count by  his  aunt  Susan,  and  as  a  general 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  233 

thing  took  his  catechising  meekly,  as  became 
the  nephew  whom  a  kind  fate  had  put  under 
Mrs.  Winchester's  charge  through  his  early 
years.  The  time  of  boyish  marauding,  of 
shirking  lessons  and  abusing  clothes  and  tor- 
menting servants,  was  happily  over  with,  but 
his  misdemeanors  were  only  transferred  to 
more  dangerous  quarters.  Poor  Dick !  he 
felt  very  young  and  very  willful  now  ;  it  was 
only  city  life  and  association  that  made  him 
look  upon  himself  as  the  Methuselah  of  so- 
ciety. 

The  sea  was  dashing  against  the  low  cliffs, 
not  far  away.  He  listened  to  the  sound  of 
it  until  he  fell  asleep.  The  waves  were  call- 
ing and  waiting,  and  calling  again,  louder 
than  before.  The  great  sea  was  farther 
away  from  the  Marsh  Island,  and  there  the 
cry  of  it  seemed  more  distant  and  dull ;  here 
there  was  an  insistence,  a  mercilessness,  in 
its  voice.  There  was  a  great  pain  in  such  a 
consciousness  of  great  possibilities  and  mis- 
erable achievements.  Was  Mrs.  Winches- 
ter wrong  or  right  ?  Her  horizons  might  in- 
deed be  contracted,  but  her  directions  were 
as  true  as  the  compass. 


XIX. 

EARLY  the  next  morning  Doris  and  her 
father  set  forth  on  their  long  drive  to  the 
outer  shore.  It  would  have  been  hard  to 
say  which  of  them  was  most  pleased  with 
the  prospect  of  this  expedition.  Doris  had 
looked  unwontedly  gratified,  and  even  re- 
lieved, when  she  accepted  the  invitation,  as 
they  sat  together  at  breakfast,  and  indeed 
was  ready  some  time  before  there  was  any 
need  of  it,  and  stood  waiting  in  the  yard 
with  almost  childish  impatience.  Israel 
Owen  was  in  a  most  placid  and  serene  mood, 
but  tried  to  take  the  unusual  pleasure  as 
indifferently  as  possible,  and  consulted  his 
wife  with  gratifying  deference  as  to  the  best 
bargain  that  might  be  made  for  some  hay. 
He  was  going  to  hold  a  solemn  business  con- 
ference with  the  overseer  and  manager  of  a 
large  estate  on  the  neighboring  sea-coast. 

Mrs.  Owen  was  mildly  excited,  and  called 
loudly  after  her  husband,  when  he  was  fairly 
out  of  the  yard,  not  to  make  an  out-and-out 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  235 

present  of  his  hay-mow  to  those  who  would 
never  thank  him  for  it ;  then  she  returned  to 
the  kitchen,  and  became  stolid  and  silent. 
Temperance  Kipp  was  also  silent  for  a  time, 
but  increasingly  energetic,  and  kept  hurry- 
ing from  room  to  room,  driving  before  her 
an  alarmed  flock  of  resourceless  flies.  She 
complained  of  this  unseasonable  escort,  and 
bewailed  the  fact  once  or  twice  that  when 
fall  flies  hived  into  the  house  in  that  fash- 
ion they  were  always  a  sign  of  changing 
weather.  "  I  urged  the  'Square  not  to  ride 
way  over  there  in  the  open  wagon,"  she  men- 
tioned reproachfully,  "  and  all  he  had  to  say 
was  that  he  wanted  the  sun  on  him.  I  hope 
't  won't  come  on  a  cold  rain  this  afternoon." 
But  the  mistress  of  the  house  preserved  a 
scornful  indifference,  as  if  she  had  resolved 
never  to  make  another  futile  protest  against 
waywardness  and  folly. 

There  was  a  great  deal  to  be  done  that 
day,  but  neither  of  the  elder  women  had  of- 
fered the  slightest  opposition  to  Doris's  tak- 
ing a  holiday,  or  seemed  offended  by  her 
absence.  Indeed,  it  was  an  evident  relief 
for  the  time  being,  and  the  current  of  affairs 
presently  flowed  with  its  usual  tranquillity. 
Temperance  would  have  liked  to  put  more 


236  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

of  her  thoughts  into  speech,  but  Martha 
Owen  judiciously  continued  to  hold  her 
peace  and  conceal  whatever  excitement  she 
may  have  felt. 

"  Seems  to  me  it  feels  like  old  times," 
Temperance  ventured,  as  she  bent  over  the 
ironing-board.  "  There,  I  should  really  miss 
doin'  up  Mr.  Dale's  shirts,  if  he  was  to  go 
away.  They  do  polish  so  handsome.  This 
one 's  a  -  beginnin'  to  crack  out  a  little. 
Everything  he  buys  is  good  quality,  and  it 's 
the  best  economy,  certain.  I  wonder  if  he 's 
goin'  to  get  back  before  afternoon  ?  " 

Meanwhile,  Doris  was  growing  more  and 
more  pleased  with  the  day's  enterprise.  To 
be  sure,  there  were  clouds  in  the  sky,  but 
they  afforded  a  subject  for  discussion  rather 
than  alarm,  and  the  weather  suited  exactly. 
The  young  girl  looked  pale  at  first,  but  the 
light  wind  and  warm  sunshine  soon  brought 
a  flicker  of  bright  color  into  her  cheeks, 
where  her  father  quickly  saw  it  and  rejoiced. 
"They've  tormented  her  about  to  pieces, 
amongst  them,"  he  assured  himself,  and 
struck  at  a  bee,  which  had  alighted  on  the 
horse's  neck,  with  his  clumsy,  long -lashed 
whip.  "Let  them  work,  I  say.  Young 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  237 

folks  will  be  young  folks ; "  and  presently, 
where  the  Sussex  road  branched  off,  he  de- 
terminedly passed  it  by,  though  the  other 
highway  made  their  journey  two  or  three 
miles  longer.  "  I  thought  I  'd  just  look  in 
to  see  how  Asher's  folks  are  gettin'  on,"  he 
explained.  "We  might  as  well  make  a  good 
day  of  it,  and  go  one  road  and  come  the 
other.  Don't  you  say  so,  Doris  ?  " 

Doris  smiled  assent.  "  What  a  long  while 
it  is  since  we  have  been  over  this  way, 
father  !  "  she  said. 

"  The  country  does  look  handsome,  for 
the  time  of  the  year,"  the  farmer  announced. 
"  I  believe  I  feel  just  like  having  a  play-time 
myself.  It  makes  me  think  of  when  you 
used  to  go  ridin'  about  with  me,  when  you 
were  a  little  girl.  I  recollect  one  time  I 
thought  I  couldn't  get  along  without  you. 
Why,  you  used  to  want  to  be  set  up  on  the 
horse's  back  and  ride  forwards  an'  back  in 
the  furrows,  when  I  was  ploughing  ;  and  one 
spell  you  used  to  get  right  on  to  the  plough, 
and  roll  off  sometimes,  too,"  and  they  both 
laughed  at  this  reminiscence. 

Doris  remembered  that  she  had  been  with 
her  father  less  than  usual  the  last  few 
months,  and  felt  very  sorry.  She  would  not 


238  A    MARSH   ISLAND. 

forget  his  pleasure  in  that  way  again.  He 
must  have  missed  her  more  than  she  had 
suspected ;  but  he  was  in  unusually  good 
spirits  that  morning. 

"  Seems  to  me  you  're  dressed  up  pretty 
smart  to  go  travelin'  with  a  rusty  old  farmer 
like  me.  I  believe  I  should  ha'  put  on  my 
best  co't,"  said  Israel ;  and  they  laughed 
together  again,  and  looked  at  one  another 
affectionately. 

"  I  like  you  best  as  you  are,"  the  girl  an- 
swered shyly.  "  I  should  think  we  felt 
strange :  "  but  she  did  not  meet  her  father's 
eyes  again  ;  they  were  both  too  conscious  of 
each  other's  thought. 

Many  a  man  and  woman  gave  the  travel- 
ers a  pleasant  greeting,  as  they  jogged  along. 
They  stopped  before  other  doors  than  Ash- 
er's,  and  told  the  news  and  heard  it  with 
equal  satisfaction.  One  observant  neighbor 
took  a  shrewd  look  at  Doris,  and  gave  an 
opinion  that  she  was  looking  a  little  peaked ; 
at  which  Mr.  Owen  was  startled,  and  stole 
a  glance  at  his  daughter,  who  eagerly  insisted 
that  she  was  very  well.  The  father  had  a 
somewhat  uncanny  gift  for  understanding 
secrets  that  were  not  told  him ;  especially 
those  concealed  with  the  care  which  is  com- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  239 

plete  betrayal  to  such  intuition.  He  seemed 
possessed  to-day  by  an  unusual  spirit  of  ob- 
servation, and  presently,  after  neither  had 
spoken  for  a  few  minutes,  Doris  found  him 
directing  significant  glances  at  her  hands, 
which  were  clasped  together,  holding  the 
pair  of  unused  gloves  which  her  mother  had 
suggested  at  the  last  moment  before  they 
left  home. 

"  Seems  to  me  some  o'  the  rest  of  'em 
might  do  the  apple-parin',"  he  said,  half  to 
himself.  "  You  '11  spile  your  pretty  fingers, 
Doris." 

"  Why,  father !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  ap- 
pealingly  ;  and  Israel  Owen  was  much  dis- 
turbed by  the  alarm  and  surprised  awaken- 
ing of  her  tone. 

"  'T  wa'n't  wise,"  he  reflected,  and  struck 
at  the  horse's  ear  again.  "  I  don't  know 
what  my  wits  are  about  to-day  ;  "  and  then 
he  laughed  aloud,  as  unconcernedly  as  pos- 
sible, and  said,  "  Blamed  if  I  don't  hit  him 
next  time !  "  as  if  the  eluding  bee  were 
really  his  chief  object  of  thought.  The  father 
and  daughter  had  been  seldom  troubled  by 
such  self  -  consciousness.  The  even  flow  of 
their  home -life  had  lately  been  fretted  by 
unaccustomed  currents,  and  it  was  impossi- 


240  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

ble  to  keep  a  straight  course.  But  Doris 
smiled  when  the  whip-lash  proved  itself  in- 
vincible, and  the  horse,  bewildered  by  such 
unusual  strokes,  darted  along  the  road.  The 
bee  had  done  old  Major  no  harm  by  lighting 
so  persistently  on  his  already  thickened  coat, 
but  its  presence  served  the  driver  an  excel- 
lent turn. 

"  I  declare,  I  do  feel  glad  to  be  out-of- 
door  to-day,"  said  the  farmer,  quite  himself 
again.  "  I  've  been  under  cover  seeing  to 
the  fruit,  and  so  on,  and  I  begun  to  feel  sort 
of  hustled.  You  brought  along  something 
besides  this  little  cape  o'  yourn,  did  n't  you, 
sister  ?  We  're  likely  to  have  it  cooler  down 
to  the  shore.  I  declare,  this  is  a  sightly 
place  !  "  and  he  stopped  the  horse  at  the  top 
of  a  hill,  under  a  great  maple-tree,  while  a 
flock  of  the  early  fallen  leaves  came  racing 
toward  them  along  the  ground,  like  a  crowd 
of  children  at  play.  "There,  you  get  a 
plain  view  here,  if  you  do  anywhere ;  the 
country  lays  itself  out  like  a  map.  See  the 
shipping  down  Westmarket  way.  The  masts 
are  in  thick  as  bean-poles,  all  ready  to  take 
a  lot  of  poor  fellows  out  an1  sink  'em,"  the 
old  landsman  grumbled,  as  he  looked  toward 
the  white  town  clustered  about  a  distant  har- 
bor side. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  241 

"  I  always  seem  to  forget  what  a  little  ways 
it  is  from  home  right  across.  It  can't  be  half 
so  far  as  it  is  by  the  nearest  road,"  said  Doris, 
as  they  went  on  again.  "  See,  father,  you  get 
across  our  marsh,  and  then  row  over  to  the 
great  white  bea'ch,  and  cross  the  sand  heaps 
to  the  back  river  and  go  up  over  the  quarry 
hills,  and  right  down  into  Westmarket ! " 

"  I  have  followed  that  road  many  a  time, 
when  I  was  younger,"  answered  Mr.  Owen, 
turning  to  look  back  at  the  lowlands.  "  I 
used  to  think  't  was  a  good  deal  farther  than 
need  be,  too,  when  I  was  travelin'  back 
and  forwards  from  the  harbor,  courtin'  your 
mother.  The  folks  at  home  thought  I  was 
n't  old  enough  to  know  my  own  mind,  and 
did  n't  favor  us  no  great ;  "  and  Israel  Owen 
smiled  with  an  un  forgotten  sense  of  triumph, 
while  Doris  grew  sober  again.  ^It  had  been 
very  comfortable  to  forget  herself  for  a  few 
minutes. 

"  Somehow,  everything  looks  pleasant  to- 
day," she  said.  "  Perhaps  you  '11  get  through 
in  time  to  go  to  Westmarket.  I  want  to  do 
some  shopping,  and  mother  always  likes  to 
hear  from  there." 

"  The  days  are  n't  so  long  as  they  have 
been,"  said  tha  farmer  sagely.  "  We  '11  see 


242  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

what  we  can  do,  Doris,"  and  presently  they 
were  in  the  lower  country  again. 

It  was  a  famous  day  for  crows  :  from  one 
field  after  another  a  flight  of  them  took 
heavily  to  their  wings,  and,  as  if  unwil- 
lingly, mounted  to  the  higher  air.  They 
cawed  loudly,  and  appeared  to  have  busi- 
ness of  a  public  nature  on  hand.  Some  were 
migrating,  a»d  others  were  contemptuously 
rebuking  these  wanderers,  and  making  their 
arrangements  to  winter  in  their  familiar 
woods :  it  was  all  a  great  chatter  and  clatter 
and  commotion.  The  affairs  of  human  be- 
ings were  but  trivial  in  comparison.  Help- 
less creatures,  who  crept  to  and  fro  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  and  were  drawn  about  by 
captive  animals  of  lesser  intellect,  were  not 
worth  noticing,  and  the  great  black  birds 
sailed  magnificently  down  the  sky,  with  the 
fresh  breeze  cool  in  their  beaks  and  the  sun- 
light shining  on  their  sombre  wings.  What- 
ever might  be  said  of  their  morals,  they 
were  masters  of  the  air,  and  could  fly,  while 
men  could  not.  Doris  watched  them  with 
childlike  pleasure,  perhaps  with  a  faint  in- 
stinctive recognition  of  the  ancient  auspices ; 
the  home  people  had  always  laughed  at  her 
fancy  for  the  crows  ever  since  she  could  re- 
member. 


A  MARSH   ISLAND.  243 

The  end  of  the  journey  was  reached  ;  the 
business  talk  was  promptly  begun,  and,  find- 
ing that  the  owners  of  the  great  house  had 
gone  away  to  town,  Doris  left  the  wagon, 
and  went  strolling  toward  the  shore.  The 
noise  of  the  sea  sounded  louder  and  nearer 
than  usual,  as  if  a  storm  were  coming  or  the 
tide  just  turning ;  the  gray  snow-birds  were 
fluttering  and  calling  one  another  in  the 
thickets,  as  she  went  by.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  that  she  had  driven  to  this  place 
with  her  father.  He  had  sold  hay  here  for 
many  years,  and  the  Marsh  Island  was  one 
of  the  reservoirs  upon  which  the  luxurious 
housekeeping  depended  for  its  supplies.  The 
people  themselves  sometimes  came  over  to 
the  farm,  and  there  was  a  pleasant  bond  of 
interest  and  respect  between  the  two  fam- 
ilies. Mrs.  Owen  had  fretted  and  planned 
about  Doris's  appearance,  but  the  girl  her- 
self was  glad  when  she  saw  the  great  house 
deserted  and  in  winter  order,  though  she 
looked  at  it  with  a  new  curiosity  and  eager- 
ness which  she  could  hardly  have  explained. 

The  horse  had  been  fastened  and  the  two 
men  had  disappeared  before  Doris  was  fairly 
across  the  lawn,  and  she  was  glad  enough. 
She  liked  the  freedom  of  her  solitary  ramble, 


244  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

and  presently  went  round  to  the  side  of  the 
house  next  the  sea,  and  seated  herself  on 
the  broad  balustrade,  among  the  frost-bitten 
vines  that  had  shaded  and  adorned  the  wide 
piazza  all  summer.  Below,  on  a  terrace,  the 
hardier  flowers  were  still  blooming,  and  she 
wondered  that  any  home  could  seem  more 
enticing  than  this.  It  had  almost  an  ap- 
pealing look  to  her,  with  its  deserted  garden 
and  so  noble  an  outlook  and  surrounding. 
She  never  had  felt  so  close  a  sympathy  with 
this  more  involved  and  complex  mode  of 
existence.  This  all  belonged  in  a  way  to 
Mr.  Dale,  and  was  familiar  to  him ;  it  was 
the  sort  of  life  he  had  always  lived,  and  she 
was  familiar  with  Mr.  Dale. 

A  quick  flush  showed  itself  for  a  moment 
on  her  cheek,  as  she  spoke  his  name  in  her 
thoughts.  She  looked  along  the  house  front, 
•  and  rose  to  peep  wistfully  in  at  the  heart- 
shaped  hole  of  the  nearest  window  shutter ; 
but  this  was  not  the  most  satisfactory  thing 
in  the  world,  and  she  turned  to  break  a  blos- 
soming tendril  of  the  late  morning-glories 
that  had  sheltered  themselves  under  the  cor- 
nice. Then  she  went  down  the  steps  that 
were  littered  with  fallen  leaves,  and  along  the 
path  that  led  to  the  cliffs  and  the  sea.  The 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  245 

great  hemlocks  and  pines  had  conquered 
their  territory,  and  stood  strong  and  vigor- 
ous among  the  ledges  ;  the  barberry  bushes 
were  bright  with  fruit,  and  the  song -spar- 
rows played  at  summer  sports  and  kept  a 
famous  holiday.  Doris  stopped  in  the  tennis 
court  to  hear  them  sing,  and  looked  round 
delightedly  at  the  quaint  place,  with  its  high 
walls  of  the  rough  stone  of  the  hill  on  three 
sides,  and  the  fading  hollyhocks  that  had 
stood  discreetly  back  out  of  the  way  of  the 
players  all  summer.  The  grass  was  smooth 
and  as  green  as  ever ;  a  tall  poplar  that 
stood  on  the  ledge  above  had  been  dropping 
down  some  of  its  yellow  leaves,  and  the 
warm  sunshine  was  filling  every  corner  of 
the  windless  pleasure-ground.  Nothing  had 
ever  spoken  so  plainly  to  this  girl  of  the  pur- 
suit of  amusement  which  belongs  to  many 
lives.  She  thought  with  almost  contempt  of 
the  idle  ways  of  rich  people,  having  been 
brought  face  to  face  with  a  sterner  fashion 
of  things ;  and  then  a  more  generous  sense 
of  the  added  care  and  responsibility  of  such 
householding  as  this  made  her  go  on  her 
way  bewildered  and  yet  contented.  Just  be- 
yond Doris  found  a  seat  for  herself  on  the 
brown  pine  needles,  beside  a  great  green 


246  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

juniper,  where  she  could  look  down  over  the 
rocks  and  see  the  white  waves  come  tumbling 
in  from  the  open  sea.  One  might  say  of 
her  that  she  had  been  confronted  with  a 
materialization  of  her  vague  ambitions  and 
hopes,  and  that  these  shapes  of  luxury  and 
worldly  consequence  were  by  no  means  with- 
out power.  The  crows  kept  up  a  desperate 
argument  with  each  other  overhead,  and  for 
the  first  time  m  her  life  Doris  thought 
them  too  clamorous  and  obtrusive,  as  they 
balanced  themselves  clumsily  on  the  high 
branches  of  the  pine  -  trees.  What  should 
she  do,  —  or  rather,  what  was  going  to  be 
done  with  her?  Her  life  was  not  familiar 
and  easily  lived  any  more,  poor  Doris  !  She 
shrank  from  the  great  blue  sea  as  if  it  were 
her  own  future  of  surprise  and  uncertainty  ; 
the  friendly  country-side  of  her  childhood 
all  lay  behind  her.  She  felt  as  if  she  were 
on  the  verge  of  a  greater  sea,  which  might 
prove  either  wonderful  happiness  or  bitter 
misery  ;  and  confused  and  dismayed  by  her 
loyalty  to  both  her  lovers,  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands.  If  she  only  knew  what  to  do ! 
Yet  it  was  too  plain  that  she  must  and  could 
do  nothing.  Poor  Dan !  —  and  she  rose 
quickly  to  her  feet,  frightened  at  the  first 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  247 

sober  thought  of  him.  Nothing  should  make 
her  hurt  his  feelings  again ;  there  was  a 
great  gulf  between  her  and  the  realization  of 
such  silly  dreams  of  splendor.  Dan  was  part 
of  herself,  and  closer  than  she  knew  to  all 
her  pleasure.  An  odd,  choking  tenderness 
posseised  her  at  the  remembrance  of  his 
words  the  last  time  they  had  been  together. 
No  matter  if  there  were  somebody  by  to 
hear,  the  very  next  time  she  saw  Dan  she 
would  tell  him  how  it  happened  that  she 
had  been  out  in  the  boat  with  Mr.  Dale  Sun- 
day morning.  Dan  would  be  sure  to  come 
round  ;  he  never  had  been  so  bad-tempered 
before,  and  his  fits  of  anger,  ever  since  she 
could  remember,  had  been  quick  to  come 
and  quick  to  go.  Dan's  honest  cheerful- 
ness, his  generosity,  his  merry  laughter,  were 
much  more  familiar  than  this  late  unchar- 
acteristic behavior.  The  situation  already 
seemed  less  tragical,  and  by  the  time  her 
father  came  to  look  for  her  Doris  was  quite 
herself  again. 

Mr.  Owen  had  evidently  made  a  good  bar- 
gain without  any  painful  preliminaries  or 
opposition,  for  he  was  in  excellent  spirits, 
and  exchanged  time-honored  jokes  with  his 
patron  on  the  propriety  of  hauling  the  hay 


248  A    MARSH  ISLAND. 

in  wet  weather,  to  make  it  weigh  more.  The 
guardian  of  the  place  looked  at  Doris  with 
undisguised  admiration,  and  at  parting  pre- 
sented her  with  a  noble  bunch  of  hot-house 
grapes. 

"  He  makes  a  sight  of  money  there,"  said 
the  farmer,  as  they  drove  away  toward 
Westmarket.  "  He  's  a  single  man,  too," 
and  crafty  Israel  stole  a  sly  look  at  his 
daughter  to  see  if  she  were  displeased, 
whereupon  she  laughed  aloud,  in  spite  of 
herself,  her  hopes  and  fears,  and  even  her 
grave  responsibilities.  All  the  way  to  West- 
market  they  talked  with  great  freedom  and 
satisfaction,  and  each  apparently  forgot  the 
constraint  that  had  bound  them  earlier  in 
the  day.  They  visited  a  cousin  in  the  town, 
and  enjoyed  better  than  usual  the  brief  as- 
sociation with  a  more  bustling  life  than 
was  known  within  the  farm  limits.  Doris's 
father  inclined  toward  lavish  generosity 
when  they  were  in  the  shops  together,  and 
seemed  as  pleased  as  a  boy  with  the  holiday. 
There  was  a  new  schooner  lying  at  one  of 
the  wharves  near  the  street,  and  he  stopped 
the  horse  to  take  a  good  look  at  the  pretty 
craft,  with  her  clean  white  sails  and  unused 
rigging.  There  were  men  busy  aloft,  and 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  249 

hurrying  to  and  fro  on  the  deck.  "  Seems 
to  me  they  're  in  a  great  drive,"  said  the 
farmer.  "  She  won't  look  so  smart  when 
they  git  her  back  here,  if  ever.  Doris, 
another  year  I  should  n't  wonder  if  you  and 
me  and  mother  went  to  New  York,  or  some- 
wheres  off.  She  's  always  desirin'  to  travel, 
mother  is,  and  I  don't  know  but  't  would 
keep  the  barnacles  off  of  us.  Young  Dale 
was  saying  the  other  day  that  whenever  I  'd 
come  he  'd  show  me  all  round  everywhere, 
and  make  me  enjoy  myself  the  best  he  could. 
What  do  you  say  now  ?  "  and  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer  to  his  enthusiastic  pro- 
posal, the  good  man  started  his  horse  quickly 
up  the  street,  as  if  that  were  the  first  stage 
of  such  a  distinguished  journey. 


XX. 

SUPPER  was  an  unusually  grave  occasion 
that  evening,  and  somehow  everybody  was 
made  to  feel  responsible  for  the  general  in- 
felicity. Mr.  Owen  alone  made  gallant  at- 
tempts to  be  cheerful  and  talkative,  but  his 
wife  did  not  come  to  the  table  at  all,  being 
pretentiously  busy  in  the  outer  kitchen,  and 
still  in  that  frame  of  mind  which  did  not  in- 
vite friendly  intercourse.  The  artist  had 
been  far  afield  all  the  afternoon,  but,  con- 
trary to  his  usual  habit,  he  put  away  his 
sketches  without  displaying  them,  and  came 
down  from  the  studio  after  dark,  looking 
quite  frost-bitten.  The  weather  had  grown 
very  bleak  and  cold  toward  night,  and  the 
farmer  several  times  bewailed  the  effect  of  a 
possible  black  frost  upon  his  ungathered 
fruit.  There  was,  altogether,  a  dishearten- 
ing suggestion  of  approaching  winter,  and 
even  the  door  of  the  outer  kitchen,  which 
Mrs.  Owen  kept  throwing  open  in  a  willful, 
aggressive  way,  admitted  a  provoking 
draught  of  chilly  air. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  251 

If  Doris  were  chief  offender  of  the  family 
peace,  her  companions  could  not  find  it  hard 
to  be  forgiving :  she  never  had  been  more 
appealing  in  her  gentleness  and  power  of 
attraction.  The  bit  of  morning-glory  vine 
still  clung  to  her  belt ;  the  leaves  were 
hardly  wilted,  and  the  lamp -light  brought 
out  a  faint  fleck  of  color  on  one  of  the  crum- 
pled blossoms.  She  felt  a  strange  sense  of 
security,  as  if  she  had  come  to  a  quiet  place 
in  the  current  which  had  so  lately  swept 
her  along  and  beaten  her  to  and  fro.  This 
evening  was  like  a  peaceful  reach  of  still 
water  ;  indeed,  her  thoughts  kept  wandering- 
back  to  the  quiet  August  night  when  she  had 
waited  for  the  haymakers  at  the  landing- 
place,  before  the  first  sign  had  been  given  of 
any  misunderstanding  between  Dan  and  her- 
self. The  soft  air,  the  faint  color  of  the 
western  sky,  the  sweet  notes  of  the  thrushes, 
—  she  remembered  everything  with  a  glow 
of  pleasure,  and  smiled  more  than  once  un- 
consciously. The  slight  change  and  restful- 
ness  of  the  holiday  had  done  her  good,  and 
Dick  thought  she  had  not  looked  so  serene 
and  untroubled  for  many  an  evening  before. 
Her  father  gave  a  pleased  glance  at  Doris 
from  time  to  time,  after  he  had  wisely  re- 


252  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

lapsed  into  silence.  He  ate  his  supper  with 
an  excellent  appetite ;  but  Dale  felt  himself 
upon  the  brink  of  a  crisis,  and  pushed  back 
his  chair  presently  without  a  word,  and  went 
into  the  clock  -  room.  Temperance  made 
great  eyes  at  the  half-opened  door,  and  shook 
her  head  as  if  in  mournful  foreboding ;  while 
Israel  Owen  gave  a  reproachful  look  in  his 
wife's  direction,  as  if  to  say  accusingly  that 
she  had  been  destroying  the  household  peace 
and  harmony  in  his  absence.  In  this  dis- 
agreeable moment  of  suspense  and  uncer- 
tainty Temperance  took  a  candle  from  the 
high  mantel  -  piece,  and  disappeared  down 
the  cellar  stairs  ;  raising  a  hymn  as  she  went, 
as  if  to  protect  her  from  evil  spirits  on  her 
way.  The  farmer  and  Doris  looked  at  each 
other  with  amused  sympathy ;  there  was 
something  so  absurdly  unnecessary  and  in- 
congruous in  the  outburst  of  psalmody. 
Temperance  must  have  had  the  boldness 
of  a  pirate,  but  it  was  impossible  for  two 
of  her  audience  not  to  accept  the  diversion 
with  gratitude. 

The  light  from  the  kitchen  shone  bright 
into  the  clock-room,  where  there  was  only  a 
newly  kindled  fire  on  the  hearth  of  the 
Franklin  stove,  and  Dick  summoned  his 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  253 

host  to  join  him  in  a  comforting  evening 
smoke.  It  was  a  serious  loss  that  they  could 
no  longer  keep  each  other  company  on  the 
side  -  door  step,  for  their  conversation  had 
become  more  conventional  since  they  had 
been  shut  within  four  walls.  The  farmer 
was  always  sympathetic  in  his  moods,  and 
tilted  himself  backward  in  his  chair  now, 
while  they  both  looked  toward  the  kitchen  ; 
it  may  have  been  that  one  was  as  glad  as 
the  other  when  Doris  flitted  before  the  door- 
way. "  Where  's  Jim  Fales  ?  "  they  heard 
her  ask ;  and  a  surly  voice  from  the  outer 
kitchen  made  a  mysterious  reply.  If  the 
listeners  had  only  known  it,  Dan  Lester's 
most  ardent  champion  at  present  was  the 
mistress  of  the  Marsh  Island.  She  was  in- 
dignant with  everybody,  but  most  of  all  with 
Doris,  and  she  said  to  herself,  with  ever-in- 
creasing decision,  that  the  poor  fellow  should 
have  his  rights.  There  were  no  half  -  way 
measures  with  Martha  Owen. 

"  You  should  come  on  and  make  us  a 
visit  in  the  winter,"  Israel  Owen  was  saying 
to  his  guest.  "  I  tell  you  we  keep  amazin' 
warm  and  comfortable  here,  to  what  some 
folks  can." 

"  Warm  !  "    exclaimed    Mrs.  Owen,    who 


254  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

looked  in  disapprovingly  at  that  moment. 
"  I  should  think  you  had  been  burning  up 
the  chopping-block  now.  I  'm  all  of  a  roast." 
Dick  did  not  know  why,  but  he  had  never 
had  such  a  consciousness  of  being  a  foreigner 
as  that  night ;  he  was  like  a  cinder  in  the 
family  eye,  and  it  winked  and  winked,  in 
the  hope  of  dismissing  him.  He  even  felt 
like  an  interloper  suddenly  discovered  at 
the  meeting  of  a  secret  society.  They  were 
all  linked  together  by  their  prejudices  and 
interests,  after  all,  these  friendly  Owens, 
and  would  no  more  lend  themselves  for  his 
idle  observation  and  picture  -  making,  being 
intent  upon  their  own  more  important  con- 
cerns. He,  Dick  Dale,  was  out  of  place ; 
but  where  was  his  place?  What  had  been 
the  use  of  him,  and  what  would  be  his  fate  ? 
A  man  who  has  been  led  and  encouraged 
by  fortune  to  complacently  avail  himself  of 
all  sorts  of  rights  and  favors  is  suddenly 
brought  face  to  face  with  his  duties:  what 
then  ?  Dick,  who  had  always  thought  a 
great  deal  of  what  he  meant  to  do,  was 
forced  to  contemplate  with  great  dismay  the 
things  he  had  not  done.  Fortune  had  un- 
kindly deserted  him,  and  left  him  in  deep 
water,  after  a  most  inadequate  swimming 


A    MARSH    ISLANH.  255 

lesson.  He  was  sensitive  to  such  convicting 
moods  and  misgivings,  and  suffered  deeply 
when  the  demands  of  life  and  reproaches 
of  conscience  showed  him  his  shortcomings. 
He  had  not  aimed  at  reaching  one  goal, — 
there  had  seemed  rather  to  be  a  succession 
of  goals ;  and  happily  at  this  point  there 
dawned  upon  his  mind  a  suspicion  that  all 
these'  were  simply  stations  on  his  great  high- 
way, and  perhaps  he  was  going  in  the  right 
direction,  after  all.  That  very  day  a  letter 
had  come  from  Bradish,  announcing  that  he 
and  a  few  comrades  would  join  Dick  at  the 
Marsh  Island  for  a  week.  There  was  yet 
time  for  such  a  pilgrimage.  They  could 
catch  the  last  tints  of  the  autumn  foliage, 
and  no  doubt  on  such  marshes  there  was  the 
best  of  gunning.  In  the  time  of  coots,  there- 
fore, and  of  ducks  and  snipe,  they  might  be 
expected.  Of  course  the  cheerful  farmer 
would  stow  them  away  somewhere,  and  they 
would  not  steal  Dale's  material ;  they  would 
only  look  him  over,  and  have  a  jolly  week 
together.  Dick  had  already  answered  such 
inflammatory  proposals ;  he  had  sent  Jim 
Fales  away,  on  his  own  responsibility,  to  the 
nearest  post-office  with  the  letter.  To-morrow 
he  would  dismantle  the  spinning-room  stu- 


256  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

dio,  and  the  next  day  he  would  go  back  to 
town ;  and  so  the  good  time  would  be  over 
with.  No  doubt  the  fellows  would  make  it 
an  excuse  for  a  supper  when  he  put  in  an 
appearance,  and  a  sickening  dislike  to  the 
aimless,  silly  routine  of  existence  possessed 
this  young  man  whom  almost  everybody  en- 
vied and  admired.  Then  Dick  lifted  his 
head,  and,  with  his  eyes  a  little  dazzled  by 
looking  at  the  glowing  coals  of  the  fire,  took 
a  good  view  of  the  old-fashioned  room.  The 
farmer  was  dozing  in  the  high-backed  rock- 
ing -  chair  at  his  side.  Temperance  and 
Doris  had  joined  them,  and  were  talking  to- 
gether in  low  tones  by  the  lamp.  Oh,  that 
beautiful  Doris  !  The  truth  was  that  he  felt 
powerless  to  keep  the  reins  of  his  self-con- 
trol ;  it  was  all  nonsense  to  pretend  to  him- 
self that  he  must  go  away  from  her  to  make 
sure.  He  belonged  here  as  much  as  any- 
where, and  he  could  not  make  a  fool  of  him- 
self any  longer.  The  shape  of  her  head  was 
something  exquisite  ;  the  sound  of  her  voice 
thrilled  him  through  and  through,  and  he 
grew  unbearably  impatient.  No  more  medi- 
tation and  philosophy  and  vague  plans  for 
him,  with  such  a  woman  as  this,  such  a  love 
as  theirs  might  be  !  No  ;  he  would  stay  until 


A   MARSH   ISLAND.  257 

Doris  said  she  would  give  herself  to  him, 
and  then  they  would  go  out  into  the  wide 
world  together.  Here  she  would  be  unde- 
veloped on  every  side  save  that  of  the  affec- 
tions, but  he  could  give  her  the  sort  of  life 
for  which  nature  had  made  her  fit.  One 
thing  had  been  proved  to  him  by  his  short 
absence :  that  he  longed  to  see  her  again, 
and  longed  to  put  her  in  her  rightful  place, 
among  the  books  and  pictures  and  silks, 
among  the  thoughtful,  beauty  -  loving,  and 
progressive  people  with  whom  his  own  life 
had  been  associated.  He  did  not  know  that 
Doris  herself  had  been  thinking  of  many 
things  that  very  day,  as  she  sat  on  the  step 
of  the  great  house,  with  the  sound  of  the  sea 
in  her  ears.  He  would  not  have  been  will- 
ing to  believe  that  her  serenity  to-night  came 
from  her  decision,  instinctive  as  it  was,  and 
almost  unrecognized,  that  she  did  not  belong 
to  the  existence  or  the  surroundings  so  fa- 
miliar to  him,  —  that  there  was  an  unlike- 
ness  which  never  could  be  bridged  over  be- 
tween her  and  himself. 

But  some  unsilenced  monitor  kept  soberly 
telling  Dick  Dale  to  wait,  something  kept 
holding  him  back  ;  a  lack  of  trust  in  his 
own  sincerity  stung  this  flower  of  passion  at 


258  A    MARK II   ISLAND. 

its  heart,  and  it  was  already  beginning  to 
fade.  He  had  spent  a  miserable  day,  poor 
Dick,  as  must  any  man  who  fears  that  his 
love  may  prove  his  fall.  As  for  the  man 
who  through  his  love  had  hoped  to  rise,  he 
also  had  been  wretched.  Doris,  the  woman 
around  whom  so  much  revolved,  on  whom  so 
much  depended,  seemed  calm  enough  ;  but 
who  knows  what  knowledge  of  being  a  pivot, 
what  fixity  and  steadfastness,  were  almost 
dulling  her  sense  of  responsibility !  She  felt 
her  heart  beat  heavily  at  every  sound  from 
without  the  house.  It  was  impossible  that 
Dan  should  not  come  that  night ;  she  had 
such  a  sense  of  his  presence  that  at  one  mo- 
ment she  was  impelled  to  go  out  under  the 
willow  boughs,  and  find  him  there  waiting 
in  the  darkness,  wishing  only  for  her,  and 
dreading  to  come  in  to  meet  her  where  the 
others  would  watch  them  curiously.  But 
how  late  it  was  growing !  What  could  be 
keeping  him  !  At  last,  in  her  excitement 
and  suspense,  she  rose,  as  if  the  room  were 
too  hot,  and  went  to  the  side-doorway.  In- 
deed, there  was  a  step  close  by,  and  Doris 
started  back.  "  Oh,  Jim  Fales,  is  that  you  ?  " 
she  said  sharply,  a  moment  afterward,  and 
went  on  to  the  kitchen,  where  her  mother  sat 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  259 

in  surly  silence,  mending  the  family  stock- 
ings, which  service  she  never  allowed  any 
one  else  to  perform,  and  always  did  herself 
as  if  it  were  a  penance. 

Jim  Fales  came  blundering  in  with  an  air 
of  great  consequence,  and  threw  his  hat  on 
the  floor,  beside  the  chair  which  he  drew  be- 
fore the  kitchen  stove.  "  Got  some  news 
now,  I  guess,"  he  announced,  looking  at 
Martha  Owen,  who  did  not  vouchsafe  the 
slightest  notice  of  him.  "  I  heard  as  I  come 
along  that  Dan  Lester 's  been  and  shipped 
for  the  Banks.  They  was  short  o'  hands  for 
that  new  schooner  that 's  just  rigged  and 
ready,  and  he  up  and  said  he  wanted  to  go  a 
v'y'ge.  If  I  wa'n't  promised  here  I  do'  know 
but  I  'd  gone  along  too,"  and  Jim  looked 
round,  slightly  dismayed  by  the  silence  of 
his  audience.  Temperance  was  standing  in 
the  doorway  behind  him,  casting  glances  at 
Doris,  who  looked  shocked  and  white.  "  I 
see  Dan  myself,  as  I  come  along,"  said 
Jim,  as  if  he  had  kept  the  best  of  his  news 
to  the  last.  Mrs.  Owen  had  condescended  to 
lay  her  stocking  down.  "  He  had  been  home 
to  say  good-by  to  the  old  lady,  I  expect. 
Don't  know  how  he  settled  with  her ;  she  al- 
ways has  been  so  against  his  f  ollerin'  the  sea, 


260  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

they  said.  P'r'aps  he  was  here  earlier  ? " 
asked  the  lad  suddenly,  with  a  crestfallen 
countenance.  It  would  be  a  dreadful  blow 
if  he  were  telling  an  old  story,  after  all. 

"  No,"  said  Temperance  briskly  ;  and  ev- 
erybody was  grateful  to  her  for  not  being 
stricken  with  speechlessness,  —  "  no,  we  've 
seen  nothing  of  him  hereabouts.  When  d' 
you  hear  they  was  going  to  sail?  " 

"  Quick  's  they  can  git  away  ;  some  said 
't  was  to-morrow  mornin'  at  daybreak,"  — 
and  Doris  turned  her  face  toward  the  win- 
dow. "  Oh,  Dan,  Dan !  "  she  thought,  as  if 
calling  his  name  in  such  an  agony  of  pity 
and  remorse  would  be  enough  to  bring  him 
back  again. 

"The  hoss  was  peltin'  right  along,  I 
tell  you,"  pursued  Jim  Fales.  "  *  Where  ye 
goin'  ? '  says  I,  and  he  kind  of  hauled  up 
and  went  slow  for  a  minute.  *  That  you  ? ' 
says  he,  and  I  says  Yes ;  and  he  waited,  kind 
of,  and  then  says  he,  '  How  's  all  the  folks  ? ' 
and  I  told  him  we  was  smart,  and  asked 
him  when  he  calc'lated  Bangs's  schooner  was 
goin'  to  sail ;  and  he  says  to-morrow,  early. 
They  wanted  to  get  her  off  by  daybreak,  if 
't  was  so  they  could.  He  was  goin'  right 
over  then  ;  he  'd  promised  to  do  a  little  job 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  261 

for  the  cap'n  before  they  went  to  sea.  'T  was 
only  a  minute  he  stopped,  and  then  drove 
right  along.  Gorry !  I  wished  I  'd  asked  him 
who  he  was  goin'  to  let  keep  his  hoss.  I  'd 
rather  have  that  colt  than  any  /  see  go  by. 
'T  ain't  none  o'  your  Canady  lunkheads,  that 
colt  ain't ! " 

But  nobody  responded  to  Jim's  enthu- 
siasm. Dick  Dale  followed  the  farmer  to 
the  kitchen,  after  a  minute's  reflection  and 
an  unworthy  feeling  of  elation  and  of  tri- 
umph over  his  rival.  "  Dear,  dear  !  "  said 
Mr.  Owen  ruefully  as  if  to  Dick  alone. 
"  Hot  haste  makes  a  long  road  back.  Well, 
't  is  a  great  pity.  I  would  n't  have  believed 
Dan  could  be  such  a  fool.  He  's  master  of 
a  good  trade  to  help  him  out,  and  he  's  got 
good  prospects  ashore,  but  he  's  of  a  mind 
to  throw  'em  to  the  four  winds,  —  that 's 
plain." 

Martha  Owen  looked  at  nobody,  and 
drudged  away  at  her  stocking.  Dale  knew 
that  he  was  unwelcome.  He  meekly  went 
back  to  the  clock-room,  and  listened  with  a 
sense  of  personal  responsibility  to  the  mur- 
mur of  voices  which  began  directly  after  Jim 
Fales's  heavy  boots  had  been  dropped  be- 
hind the  stove,  and  he  had  gone  softly  up 


262  A   MA  US  II    ISLAND. 

the  back  stairs  to  bed.  Jim  must  be  up 
early  in  the  morning,  in  these  cider-making 
days.  There  was  something  absurd  in  the 
lack  of  disguise  as  to  the  state  of  affairs. 
In  a  city  household  there  would  have  been 
a  thin  icing  of  general  conversation  over  the 
dangerous  depths  of  such  a  misfortune,  but 
here  the  stranger  was  not  considered,  and 
indeed  was  made  to  feel  his  evident  agency 
in  bringing  about  the  disaster.  "  I  don't 
care  who  hears  me,"  said  his  hostess  once, 
in  a  raised  voice,  which  came  as  straight  to 
Dick's  ears  as  if  there  had  been  no  others 
on  the  way  :  "  Dan  ought  n't  to  have  been 
drove  away  from  his  rights.  He  's  just  come 
into  a  handsome  property  in  the  West,  and 
nobody  knows  whether  there  '11  be  a  straw 
of  it  left  when  he  gets  back,  if  ever  he 
does  ;  "  and  at  this  point  somebody  —  Dick 
thought  it  might  be  Doris  herself  —  came 
nearer,  and  shut  the  kitchen  door. 

Dick  was  thoroughly  uncomfortable.  He 
was  ashamed  to  quietly  disappear,  and  hide 
himself  in  his  bed  at  that  early  hour.  He 
took  one  of  his  own  books  from  the  table, 
and  tried  to  read ;  but  the  situation  was 
too  startling  a  combination  of  tragedy  and 
comedy.  It  was  something,  however,  to  pro- 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  263 

serve  the  appearance  of  a  devotion  to  lit- 
erature when  Temperance  reappeared.  She 
looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  a  blameless  but 
mistaken  baby,  who  had  played  with  matches 
and  beggared  its  family.  When  Mr.  Richard 
Dale  tried  to  behave  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, and,  looking  at  his  own  sketch  of  the 
young  soldier  which  hung  on  the  wall  before 
him,  ventured  at  last  to  say  that  the  younger 
Israel  must  have  been  a  fine  fellow  and  a 
terrible  loss,  Temperance  clicked  her  knit- 
ting-needles vindictively,  and  made  no  reply. 
"It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  die  for  one's 
country,"  Dale  added  pensively ;  and  this 
brought  his  companion  to  an  expression 
of  her  opinion.  "That's  what  everybody 
s'posed  they  must  remark,"  she  snapped ; 
"  but  I  called  it  a  darned  shame,  and  I  al- 
ways shall : "  whereupon  Dick  took  up  his 
book  again  to  conceal  his  quite  unexpected 
revulsion  of  feeling.  He  wished,  and  yet  he 
feared,  to  see  Doris  again  that  night ;  but 
she  did  not  appear,  and  after  lingering  a 
while  this  unhappy  stranger  and  foreigner 
took  a  candle  and  departed.  The  old  clock 
ticked  in  a  more  leisurely  fashion  than  ever 
that  night,  as  if  to  keep  a  check  upon  the 
excited  household.  It  had  measured  off  sad- 


264  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

der  hours  than  these  many  times  over.  Life 
should  not  be  spoiled  by  haste  or  waste  ;  to- 
morrow would  be  a  new  day.  Some  younger 
timekeepers  might  be  saying,  Hurry,  hurry  I 
but  this  was  one  that  said,  Wait,  wait  I 


XXI. 

DORIS  never  had  known  so  long  a  night. 
Her  poor  eyes  were  worn  out  with  tears,  for 
she  accused  herself  a  hundred  times  of  be- 
ing wholly  to  blame.  She  had  not  meant 
to  be  faithless  or  provoking,  and  yet  she  had 
brought  down  such  calamity  upon  everybody. 
She  tried  to  think  over  Dan's  grievances  as 
he  had  evidently  seen  them,  but  she  failed 
to  convict  herself  of  any  real  fault.  She 
liked  Mr.  Dale  ;  she  enjoyed  the  pleasant- 
ness and  novelty  of  the  new  interests  his. 
coming  had  brought.  She  had  dreamed  a  lit- 
tle, as  girls  will,  of  her  future  if  she  should 
love  him.  There  had  been  times  when  she 
did  not  shrink  from  the  new  atmosphere 
that  had  surrounded  the  young  artist  and 
herself,  and  the  remembrance  of  one  mo- 
ment under  the  beech -tree  would  always 
keep  a  tender  place  for  him  in  her  heart. 
But  she  knew  now  once  for  all  that  she  never 
could  belong  to  anybody  but  Dan,  and  Dan 
was  angry  with  her  ;  he  was  putting  his  dear 


266  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

life  in  peril  all  for  a  foolish  mistake.  The 
girl  was  long  at  her  prayers  in  the  cold  lit- 
tle chamber.  She  shivered  and  cried.  She 
feared,  as  she  never  had  feared  anything 
before,  that  this  handsome,  reckless  fellow 
would  be  drowned,  if  he  went  to  sea.  She 
remembered  his  sad  old  mother,  and  grew 
every  hour  more  alarmed  and  hopeless.  At 
last  she  thought  of  a  plan,  —  or  to  her  it 
was  like  the  bidding  of  an  angel :  she  would 
go  herself  to  Westmarket  in  the  morning, 
and  find  Dan  Lester,  and  beg  him  to  stay  at 
home. 

The  moonlight  was  clear  and  bright,  and 
many  times  Doris  looked  out  of  her  narrow 
window  to  see  if  there  were  any  signs  of 
dawn.  She  must  get  to  the  schooner  by  day- 
light, if  she  were  to  be  in  time.  They  would 
be  likely  to  sail  at  high  water  from  that 
wharf,  for  the  harbor  was  shallow  near  by. 
She  counted  the  hours,  and  laid  her  plan 
with  the  intensity  of  one  out  of  her  reason  ; 
though  once,  when  from  very  weariness  the 
exigency  of  it  faded  away,  it  seemed  to  poor 
Doris  as  if  the  punishment  for  her  fault  and 
foolishness  were  out  of  all  proportion  to  its 
deserts.  -And  if  Dan  were  so  unreason;:1.)!,1 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  267 

and  jealous  the  worst  was  his  own.  The 
next  minute  a  sense  of  his  great  love,  a  love 
that  had  always  been  growing,  and  of  his 
bitter  disappointment  made  her  cry  with  pity 
for  him  and  for  herself.  How  could  they 
live  through  so  many  wretched,  silent  weeks 
apart !  Perhaps  these  fishermen,  like  many 
others,  would  never  be  heard  from  after  they 
left  port ;  for  many  a  schooner,  Doris  knew, 
had  been  ploughed  under  by  the  great  prow 
of  a  steamship,  its  little  light  gone  out 
through  carelessness,  and  the  sleeping  men 
drowned  in  the  sea  and  lost,  as  if  it  were  a 
bad  dream  of  danger  mingled  with  their 
dreams  of  home. 

It  was  still  night  when  Doris  left  her  com- 
fortless bed,  and  stepping  carefully  about 
the  room,  so  that  she  would  wake  nobody, 
dressed  herself  in  her  warmest  clothes.  Her 
heart  was  breaking  with  fear  and  shame 
together.  She  had  determined  at  last  not  to 
wake  her  father  or  Jim,  to  beg  them  to  go 
with  her  to  Westmarket ;  neither  would  she 
wait  even  to  drive  along  the  highway,  as  if 
this  were  any  other  errand.  The  remem- 
brance of  the  shorter  distance  across  the 
marshes  to  the  town  filled  her  mind  wholly. 
It  was  already  four  o'clock ;  she  had  heard 


268  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

the  great  timekeeper  count  it  out  slowly,  and 
there  was  not  a  minute  to  lose.  Enough 
time  had  been  wasted  already  in  fruitless 
self-reproaches  and  bewailings,  and  the  relief 
of  action  under  so  great  a  sense  of  disaster 
was  a  blessing  in  itself.  A  little  later  the 
girl  was  fairly  out-of-doors,  —  outside  the 
silent  house,  outside  all  protection  and  pre- 
cedent also,  as  if  she  had  been  launched 
off  the  face  of  this  familiar  earth,  and  must 
find  her  way  unwelcomed  and  unheralded 
through  space. 

The  frost  had  fallen,  and  glistened  white 
along  the  trodden  pathway  that  led  up 
through  the  dooryard.  The  window  of  the 
spinning  -  room  caught  the  moonlight,  and 
flashed  in  her  face  as  she  passed  by ;  and 
Doris  turned  once  and  looked  at  the  old 
house,  as  if  she  were  asking  forgiveness,  and 
wondering  if  life  would  ever  be  the  same  to 
her  after  this  dreadful  night.  She  thought 
of  her  soldier  brother,  and  wondered,  too,  if 
he  had  not  sometimes  been  brave  alone  at 
night,  like  this,  and  so  would  keep  her  com- 
pany in  love  and  pity.  Oh,  there  were  so 
many  reasons  why  she  must  get  to  Dan  in 
time !  Everybody  would  guess  his  reason 
for  going;  everybody  would  talk  of  it,  and 


A   MARSH   ISLAND.  269 

laugh,  and  watch  her  until  he  came  back, 
and  blame  her  forever,  for  his  poor  mother's 
sake,  if  he  were  lost.  In  time  of  war  and 
peril  women  had  done  such  things  as  this, 
but  Doris  could  not  think  of  herself  as  he- 
roic. She  only  repented  the  sins  for  which 
she  must  be  blamed  if  she  did  not  get  to 
Westmarket  before  the  schooner  sailed. 
Out  of  her  quiet  life  and  simple  thoughts, 
troubled  with  pain  and  sorrow  of  the  keenest 
sort,  she  hurried  away  into  the  night.  After 
one  great  shiver  she  did  not  feel  cold  again, 
but  hurried,  hurried,  over  the  crisp  gray 
grass,  down  across  the  long,  clean-swept  field, 
where  the  moon,  sinking  low  in  the  sky,  hin- 
dered her  with  a  trailing  shadow  that  seemed 
to  delay  her  more  and  more. 

There  was  a  high  tide  of  treacherous-look- 
ing water,  and  when  she  came  to  the  brink 
of  it  she  stopped  an  instant,  as  if  hesitating. 
The  creek  was  wide  here,  and  it  never  had 
looked  half  so  far  across  ;  but  Doris  went 
carefully  along  the  shore  until  she  came  to 
an  old  boat,  which  had  bgen  on  many  an 
errand,  but  never  in  all  its  life  had  carried 
a  young  girl  alone  on  a  night  like  this.  Be- 
fore long  she  was  afloat.  The  boat  leaked 
and  went  heavily;  the  oars  that  she  had 


270  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

pulled  from  their  familiar  hiding-place  were 
short  and  heavy,  and  splintering  at  their 
handles.  But  Doris  rowed  as  if  this  were 
a  race,  and  looked  often  over  her  shoulder, 
until  at  last  she  heard  the  dry  sedges  of  the 
farther  shore  rustle  and  bend,  and  she  could 
step  on  dry  land  and  be  on  her  way  again. 

The  dawn  was  glimmering  in  the  east ; 
the  moon  was  almost  down  ;  the  whole  coun- 
try lay  dead  and  still,  as  if  it  would  not 
live  again  with  the  morning.  Beyond  the 
marshes  which  Doris  must  cross  there  were 
great  drifts  of  bleached  white  sand,  as  if 
the  ghosts  of  the  night  had  transformed  the 
world  to  their  color,  and  it  had  hardly  re- 
gained its  own  again.  It  was  a  dead  frag- 
ment of  the  world,  at  any  rate,  —  a  field 
where  little  grew  that  needed  more  than  rain 
and  air.  Doris  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
sand  dunes,  and  they  appeared  to  recede  as 
she  advanced,  mocking  her  like  a  mirage, 
and  at  last  coming  close  when  she  thought 
they  were  still  far  away.  At  length  her  feet 
stumbled  in  the  white,  shifting,  slipping 
heaps,  and  she  toiled  and  crept  upon  them, 
so  slowly,  so  disappointingly ;  for  they 
seemed  to  be  planted  there  as  a  barrier, 
raised  by  enchantment.  Alas !  this  night 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  271 

was  all  enchantment.  Where  was  the  sun- 
shiny yesterday,  when  she  had  been  secure 
and  peaceful,  and  almost  happy,  when  one 
compared  those  hours  with  these  ? 

The  sky  was  clear  in  the  east,  and  fast 
growing  brighter ;  but  each  way  Doris 
looked,  there  was  only  this  desert  waste  of 
sand,  white  as  bone,  deep  and  bewildering, 
and  the  coarse  grass  and  hungry  heather 
clung  to  the  higher  heaps  of  it  here  and 
there.  It  was  like  a  picture  of  the  misery 
and  emptiness  of  the  girl's  future,  if  her 
lover  went  away  to  sea.  For  the  first  time 
she  grew  afraid,  and  her  strength  left  her 
suddenly,  while  she  looked  ahead  to  where, 
across  more  sand  and  more  water  and  a  long 
slope  of  upland  pastures,  the  spires  of  West- 
market  were  already  catching  the  color  of 
the  sunrise.  Beside  her  were  some  old 
apple-trees  that  the  shifting  dunes  had  waged 
war  against  and  defeated.  They  were  dis- 
couraged and  forlorn  in  their  desolation,  like 
the  fig-tree  that  was  cursed.  Doris  looked 
pityingly  at  their  dead  leaves  and  mossy 
tangle  of  branches  ;  and  at  that  moment  a 
withered,  pathetic  mockery  of  fruit  fell  on 
the  sand  at  her  feet.  It  was  like  a  conscious 
gift  from  these  outlawed  growths  ;  it  some- 


272  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

how  gave  her  a  bit  of  sympathy.  Did  they 
indeed  know  the  bitterness  of  loneliness  and 
the  withdrawal  of  everything  that  makes  life 
comfortable  and  dear?  They  had  been 
walled  in  and  condemned  to  death,  the  poor 
trees,  though  away  in  the  world  people  were 
making  merry  fearlessly  under  the  same 
great  empty  sky. 

As  the  light  grew  clearer  little  tracks  of 
birds  and  small  wild  creatures  could  be  seen 
on  the  drifted  sand.  Once  Doris  surprised 
a  fox  that  was  stealing  along  through  the 
hollows  of  the  dunes.  He  was  hardly  star- 
tled ;  he  only  changed  his  course  a  little, 
and  went  gliding  down  toward  the  marshes, 
with  his  brush  trailing  after  him.  Doris 
felt  as  if  she  were  a  wild  creature,  too.  She 
tried  to  remind  herself  of  other  days  than 
this,  to  keep  her  wits  together.  She  won- 
dered once,  if  she  should  faint  and  fall  here, 
how  long  it  would  be  before  any  one  would 
come  and  find  her,  or  if  they  had  missed  her 
yet ;  her  mother  and  Temperance  would  be 
sure  to  wake  her  early  on  this  unhappy 
morning.  She  thought  of  herself  as  if  she 
were  still  at  home  in  her  warm  bed  un- 
der the  blue  and  white  counterpane.  She 
dreaded  the  sound  of  heavy  footsteps  in  the 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  273 

entry  outside.  They  might  leave  her  to  her- 
self that  one  day,  until  Mr.  Dale  and  Jim, 
and  even  her  father,  were  out  of  the  house. 
And  all  the  while  she  was  flitting  on,  on, 
over  the  white  desert,  with  a,  chill  autumn 
sky  above  her,  with  a  fox  and  the  wondering 
birds  of  the  air  for  company. 

When  she  gained  the  shore  of  the  last  in- 
let, all  seemed  lost !  She  had  not  thought 
how  she  could  cross  there ;  and  she  stopped 
still  and  looked  about  her,  hoping  in  vain  to 
see  a  boat.  It  was  too  late  to  retrace  her 
steps,  and  go  round  by  the  neck  of  land  that 
joined  the  sand  wastes  to  some  marshes  and 
the  mainland ;  and  she  sat  down,  and  cov- 
ered her  face  with  her  hands.  The  tears 
would  come,  because  she  was  so  tired  and 
so  desperate ;  she  had  not  thought  of  crying 
before,  but  now  it  was  a  great  comfort.  "  O 
God,  help  me ! "  said  poor  Doris,  over  and 
over  again,  and  for  one  moment  Dick  Dale's 
eyes  looked  into  hers  again,  with  that  same 
dazzle.  If  he  were  only  here,  he  would  help 
her,  —  anything  would  be  better  than  this. 
He  was  so  gentle !  But  her  thoughts  went 
roving  away  again  to  her  own  dear  Dan. 
How  many  things  she  had  learned  of  Mr. 
Dale  which  she  could  do  for  him  by  and  by  ! 

18 


274  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

Dan  would  like  to  have  the  house  pleasant. 
Dan  had  a  pretty  taste,  and  his  mother  had 
always  said  that  his  fingers  were  as  quick  as 
a  woman's.  She  should  always  be  sorry 
that  he  had  not  seen  Mr.  Dale's  pictures ;  he 
would  have  liked  them  better  than  anybody. 
Oh,  if  she  were  only  at  home !  She  never 
could  go  all  the  way  back,  and  they  would 
hunt  for  her  soon,  and  grow  frightened  when 
she  could  not  be  found.  How  could  she  face 
them  all  when  she  got  home  ?  By  that  time 
Dan  would  be  out  of  the  harbor.  How  could 
he  be  so  angry !  —  and  Doris  wished  she 
could  die  there,  and  never  open  her  eyes 
again  upon  this  miserable  world. 

As  the  sun  rose,  a  weather-beaten  boat, 
with  two  boys  for  crew,  came  down  the  river. 
They  were  enjoying  a  stolen  pleasure,  and  it 
was  not  surprising  to  them  that  in  a  time  of 
such  excitement  and  tremendous  consequence 
a  strange  young  woman,  with  a  white,  scared 
face,  should  call  to  them  from  the  farther 
shore  and  ask  to  be  set  across.  Their  cheer- 
ful voices  and  red  cheeks  and  their  air  of 
mystery  and  adventure  did  Doris  good,  and 
she  put  them  on  the  track  of  the  fox  with 
their  clumsy  gun,  and  wished  them  a  fine 
day's  sport.  They  looked  at  her  furtively 


A   MARSH  ISLAND.  275 

as  they  tugged  the  old  boat  through  the 
water ;  they  watched  her  quickly  climb  the 
low  hill  that  rose  between  them  and  the  town. 
It  was  a  bright,  sunshiny  morning  at  last, 
—  just  the  day  to  begin  a  voyage.  The  blue 
sea  sparkled,  and  dazzled  the  eyes  that  looked 
eastward  from  the  high  ground,  from  whence 
one  could  overlook  the  village  roofs  and  chim- 
neys, with  the  line  of  masts  between  them 
and  the  narrow  harbor  beyond.  At  one  place 
and  another  there  were  white  sails  hoisted, 
and  a  fleet  of  fishing-smacks  were  making 
ready  to  go  out  with  the  tide.  As  the  wives 
and  mothers  of  the  fishermen  were  astir  early 
in  the  little  town,  some  of  them  tearful  enough 
already,  they  might  have  seen  a  slender  fig- 
ure making  its  way  to  the  shore.  They 
did  not  know  what  a  fear-stricken,  heavy 
heart  was  passing  by  their  windows,  or  how 
much  need  of  comfort  the  young  stranger 
had  that  morning.  Would  she  be  too  late, 
after  all?  Was  Dan  beyond  her  reach  even 
now?  The  schooners  would  drift  quickly 
away  from  their  moorings,  the  sails  unfurl 
themselves  to  the  fresh  westerly  breeze.  Un- 
less she  could  hurry  along  the  harbor  side 
and  put  off  in  a  dory,  there  was  no  chance 
left,  and  a  vision  of  the  mocking  faces  of  the 


276  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

sailors,  and  even  of  Dan's  displeasure,  made 
Doris  hesitate  for  one  dismayed  instant ;  then 
she  hurried  on  again.  The  street  looked  end- 
lessly long ;  she  felt  as  if  she  were  in  a  night- 
mare, and  a  dreadful  dullness  made  her  go 
more  and  more  slowly.  At  last  she  came 
near  the  wharf ;  round  the  next  corner  she 
could  see  — 

"  Doris !  Here,  Doris  !  "  and  for  a  min- 
ute the  girl  looked  bewildered,  and  the  light 
faded  in  her  eyes.  Somebody  was  coming 
across  the  street,  also  to  make  his  way  down 
the  lane  that  led  to  the  water- side.  Could 
it  be  Dan  himself,  in  his  every-day  clothes  ? 
There  never  was  a  stranger  sight ;  and  yet 
this  was  truly  Dan,  not  gone  to  sea  at  all. 
Were  they  there,  where  nobody  was  watch- 
ing them,  instead  of  at  the  harbor,  where 
people  could  flout  at  such  a  scene  ? 

"  Oh,  Dan,"  said  the  girl  faintly,  "  please 
take  me  home  as  quick  as  you  can.  I  thought 
you  —  Jim  Fales  said  you  were  going  to  the 
George's  Banks.  I  did  n't  mean  to  make 
you  feel  bad  "  — 

"  Take  right  hold  of  my  arm,"  said  Dan. 
"  Come,  we  'd  better  go  home,  Doris,"  as  if 
she  had  been  a  child.  "  I  love  the  ground 
you  step  on,  darlin'.  How  did  you  get  over 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  277 

here  this  time  o'  day  ?  I  "  —  But  Dan  fal- 
tered, and  could  say  no  more.  He  thought 
it  would  never  do  for  him  to  cry  there  in  the 
street,  even  if  Doris  were  draggled  and  wet, 
and  looked  so  pinched  and  cold  ;  even,  as  ho 
knew  a  little  later,  if  she  had  come  across 
the  marshes,  Heaven  only  knew  how,  for  his 
unworthy  sake. 


XXII. 

WHEN  the  lovers  drove  into  the  farm- 
house yard,  they  were  greeted  with  mingled 
expressions  of  relief  and  astonishment.  Dan 
was  instantly  received  as  a  member  of  the 
family,  for  it  was  unmistakable  that  the 
young  folks  had  in  some  way  or  other  "  made 
it  up  between  them."  "  I  must  say  you  have 
led  us  a  pretty  dance,"  Mrs.  Owen  said, 
with  a  cheerful,  bantering  air,  to  her  daugh- 
ter. "  We  never  missed  you  till  just  now. 
I  thought  likely  you  was  sleeping  late,  after 
driving  so  far  yesterday.  Now,  Dan,  I  hope 
Doris  and  your  mother  together  have  per- 
suaded you  out  o'  such  school-boy  nonsense 
as  goin'  fishin'  ?  "  There  could  be  detected 
a  slight  impatience  with  the  girl,  who  was 
believed  to  have  stolen  away  so  early  in 
the  morning  to  join  forces  with  her  lover's 
mother.  Mrs.  Owen  herself  would  never 
have  stooped  to  such  a  thing,  but  this  was  no 
time  to  make  a  bad  impression  upon  so  pros- 
perous and  evidently  victorious  a  son-in-law. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  279 

She  had  been  too  fearful  of  losing  him  the 
night  before. 

Doris  stole  upstairs,  grateful  and  bewil- 
dered, but  longing  only  to  be  quiet  for '  a 
while.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  left  the  famil- 
iar room  years  ago  instead  of  a  few  hours,  all 
her  life  was  so  changed.  The  sweet  warmth 
of  the  sun  was  pouring  in  at  the  window; 
some  late  flies  buzzed  at  the  panes,  as  if 
they  wished  to  escape  and  share  the  free- 
dom of  the  bright  October  day.  Doris  heard 
her  lover's  voice  now  and  then.  It  seemed 
like  a  Sunday  morning  out-of-doors.  Her 
thoughts  went  backward  with  wonder  and 
delight,  finding  in  every  memory  some  proof 
and  assurance  that  she  and  Dan  were  born 
to  love  each  other.  Their  happiness  had  sud- 
denly burst  into  bloom ;  but  for  all  that,  the 
flower's  roots  had  been  growing  unseen  in 
the  darkness,  and  even  the  misunderstand- 
ing, of  the  past. 

Later,  with  an  air  of  unusual  hilarity, 
Temperance  went  out  to  meet  Jim  Fales,  as 
he  came  loitering  home  from  the  pasture 
and  a  prolonged  experience  of  salting  sheep. 
"  Jim  Fales,"  she  inquired,  with  mysterious 
deference,  u  I  s'pose  you  don't  know  of  a 


280  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

wanderin'  minister  of  the  Orthodox  persua- 
sion anywhere  about  ?  " 

"  Lor',  yes,"  said  Jim  promptly,  equal  to 
a  joke,  but  puzzling  his  brains  for  the  mean- 
ing of  this.  "  Got  occasion  for  one  right 
away,  Temperance  ?  Who  've  you  picked 
out  since  I  've  been  gone  ?  "  while  at  that 
moment  his  eyes  fell  upon  Israel  Owen  and 
Dan  Lester,  who  were  leaning  over  the  gar- 
den fence  together  in  friendly  intercourse. 

Temperance  gave  an  emphatic  nod,  as  her 
colleague  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  and 
whistled  a  wild  note  ;  then  she  turned  back 
toward  the  house,  wearing  her  most  circum- 
spect expression.  Her  great  checked  apron 
fluttered  and  bulged  in  the  breeze ;  she 
seemed  to  be  looking  down  intently  at  some 
white  geese  feathers  that  had  caught  in  the 
dry  grass  stalks,  and  were  floating  lightly 
like  tiny  flags  of  truce.  One  of  the  cats 
came  running  to  meet  her.  Mrs.  Owen  was 
standing  in  the  kitchen  doorway,  very  amia- 
ble and  friendly,  it  was  plain  to  see,  and  of- 
fering no  apparent  objections  to  a  good  talk. 
Young  Fales  directed  his  steps  toward  the 
barn  door,  where  he  had  observed  the  wheels 
of  Lester's  buggy,  and  there  he  passed 
a  season  of  wonder  and  enjoyment.  The 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  281 

vehicle  bore  traces  of  having  been  driven 
at  uncommon  speed,  and  the  horse,  a  swift 
young  creature,  was  drooping  his  head,  and 
still  breathing  faster  than  usual.  "  Here 's 
some  of  that  blamed  red  mud  that  conies  from 
most  over  to  Westmarket,"  meditated  the 
curious  lad.  "  He  's  given  up  goin'  fishin', 
that 's  plain  enough ; "  and  Jim  wandered 
into  the  kitchen,  brimful  of  sincere  inter- 
est and  good-will,  only  to  be  promptly  dis- 
missed by  Martha  Owen,  and  blamed  for 
hanging  round  at  that  time  in  the  morning, 
when  there  was  everything  to  be  done. 
"Ain't  he  goin'  to  sea?"  asked  the  lad, 
with  uncalled-for  sympathy  in  his  tone,  and 
the  two  women  smiled  at  each  other. 

"  I  guess  he  was  only  talkin'  about  it," 
volunteered  Temperance,  evidently  much 
amused  ;  but  Mrs.  Owen  gravely  explained 
that  Dan's  mother  was  set  against  it  from 
the  first,  and  Dan  himself  gave  up  the  no- 
tion when  he  came  to  find  out  what  kind  of 
a  crew  they  'd  shipped. 

The  triumphant  lover  stayed  to  dinner, 
and  that  was  a  day  of  high  festival  at  the 
farm,  although  there  were  few  outward  signs 
of  the  satisfaction  and  rejoicing.  After  a 


282  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

short  absence  Dan  returned  with  his  mother, 
both  dressed  in  their  best,  and  there  was 
much  hand-shaking  among  the  men  and  a 
few  kisses  and  tears  to  show  the  women's  ap- 
proval. Nobody  spoke  directly  of  the  great 
event,  —  perhaps  the  Marsh  Island's  vocabu- 
lary did  not  contain  any  form  of  speech  for 
such  deep  thoughts ;  but  the  little  group 
talked  together  about  Dan's  Western  pros- 
pects, as  if  they  were  one  family  already  in 
very  truth.  Mr.  Dale  was  not  slow  to  offer 
his  congratulations.  He  tried  to  forget  that 
there  had  been  the  slightest  cloud  of  discom- 
fort over  the  sky  ;  he  imagined  that  he  found 
it  very  charming  at  the  studio,  and  that  it 
seemed  more  like  the  first  part  of  his  resi- 
dence on  the  island  than  the  last.  Dick  was 
very  sympathetic :  he  could  not  help  being 
glad  that  everybody  else  was  so  happy,  and 
there  was  a  certain  sort  of  relief  in  finding 
that  there  was  no  serious  decision  to  be  made 
after  all,  and  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in 
his  consciousness  of  an  uncommon  respon- 
sibility and  need  of  action.  He  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  Doris's  narrow  future  ; 
perhaps,  if  the  truth  were  told,  he  was  more 
concerned  for  her  sake  than  for  his  own. 
And  yet  — 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  283 

At  supper-time  Dick  expressed  much  sor- 
row to  his  entertainers  because  he  could  not 
linger  a  week  later.  He  should  like  to  carry 
away  a  sketch  or  two  of  the  cider-making, 
having  just  passed  the  press  at  their  neigh- 
bor Bennet's,  and  joined  the  friendly  com- 
pany that  surrounded  it.  He  was  deeply 
touched  when  Mr.  Owen  turned  to  him,  with 
an  affectionate  look,  and  said,  "  I  must  say 
I  hate  to  part  with  you,  my  lad." 

"  I  expect  he  '11  be  a  great  man  one  of 
these  days,"  added  Mrs.  Owen  politely. 
"  You  must  always  make  it  your  home  here, 
if  you  come  this  way,  Mr.  Dale.  You  must 
n't  get  to  feelin'  above  us."  After  this  it 
seemed  to  Dick  as  if  the  sooner  he  were  gone 
the  better. 

That  afternoon,  as  he  was  putting  his 
sketches  together  in  the  spinning-room,  he 
thought  a  good  deal  about  Doris.  He  had 
not  seen  her  since  the  day  before,  but  he  had 
won  a  confession  of  her  morning  journey 
from  the  wistful  old  father,  who  alternated 
complete  delight  with  compassion  for  even 
the  happy  young  people  themselves.  "  They 
don't  know  life  as  I  know  it.  But  I  've  cal- 
c'lated  for  a  considerable  spell  on  havin' 
Dan  take  holt  of  the  farm.  He  could  n't  help 


284  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

weepin',  Dan  could  n't,  —  an'  I  don'  know 
's  I  blame  him,  —  when  he  was  tellin'  how 
Doris  come  after  him.  He  made  me  promise 
that  I  nor  nobody  else  should  n't  ever  hint 
a  word  about  it  to  her." 

Dick  nodded.  There  was  no  use  in  saying 
that  he  believed  the  beautiful  girl  capable  of 
any  heroism  and  masterly  scope  of  achieve- 
ment, as  he  knew  her  equality  to  all  re- 
finements and  tenderness.  He  was  bitterly 
ashamed  of  his  deliberations.  He  wished 
more  than  ever  that  a  strong  tide  might  have 
assailed  him  and  swept  him  off  the  shore 
where  mistaken  reason  or  any  aspect  of  world- 
liness  had  given  insecure  foothold.  Doris 
had  seemed  younger  than  her  years,  and  had 
painted  herself  upon  his  consciousness  in 
pale  colors,  and  faint,  though  always  per- 
fectly defined,  outlines.  But  his  old  knowl- 
edge of  her  seemed  now  as  the  enthusiasm 
and  eagerness  of  a  first  sketch  does  to  the 
dignity  and  fine  assertion  of  a  finished  pic- 
ture. One  could  say  easily  that  Doris  and 
Dan  Lester  were  destined  for  each  other, 
and  console  one's  self  by  thinking  there  was 
never  any  chance  to  win.  Alas  for  those 
who  let  the  golden  moment  pass,  —  who  let 
the  gate  of  opportunity  be  shut  in  their 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  285 

faces,  while  they  wait  before  it  trying  to 
muster  favoring  conditions,  or  argument  and 
authority,  like  an  army  with  banners  to  es- 
cort them  through. 

Farmer  Owen  thought  that  Dick  looked  a 
good  deal  older  than  when  he  came,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  the  young  man  and  said 
good-by.  "There,  it  always  seemed  more 
like  having  a  girl  about  than  a  man,"  said 
the  mistress  of  the  Marsh  Island,  as  she 
watched  the  wagon,  already  almost  out  of 
sight  far  down  the  road.  "  I  expect  we  shall 
miss  him  considerable,  he  was  so  pleasant. 
I  believe  he  took  to  Doris  more  'n  he  'd  let 
on.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  sent  her  some- 
thin'  real  handsome  for  a  weddin'  present." 

"  He  won't  never  set  the  river  afire,"  said 
Temperance,  whose  countenance  wore  a  most 
regretful  and  sentimental  expression.  "  He 
wants  to  have  all  the  town  ladders  out  to  git 
him  over  a  grain  o'  sand." 

"  I  tell  you  he  's  got  good  grit,  now !  ' 
exclaimed  Mr.  Owen  fiercely  ;  "  there 's  more 
to  him  than  you  think  for.  He  ain't  got 
a  brow  an'  eye  so  like  pore  Israel's  all  for 
nothin'.  He  promised  he  'd  write  an'  tell 
me  when  he  'd  been  an'  voted  to  this  next 


286  A    MARSH  ISLAND. 

election,  too,"  added  the  farmer,  who  was  a 
conscientious  politician.  "  No  wonder  the 
country  's  been  goin'  to  the  dogs,  when  such 
folks  don't  think  it 's  wuth  their  while  to 
take  holt."  But  as  the  little  company  sep- 
arated each  could  have  told  the  other  that 
Dick's  going  away  reminded  them  of  a  far 
sadder  day,  not  many  years  before. 


xxin. 

"  GOOD-MORNING,  my  melancholy  Jaques ! " 
said  Mr.  Bradish,  a  day  or  two  afterward, 
looking  up 'from  his  easel  at  a  friend  who 
had  strayed  into  the  studio  as  if  he  had  left 
it  only  an  hour  or  two  before.  "  Are  you 
sure  there  was  no  malaria  in  your  para- 
dise?" 

Bradish  was  a  sedate-looking  young  gen- 
tleman, with  a  roundish  head,  and  short 
black  hair,  and  pathetic  brown  eyes.  He 
almost  never  laughed,  he  rarely  even  smiled, 
but  he  was  always  called  the  prince  of  good 
fellows  by  his  comrades.  There  is  a  well- 
known  chemical  process,  called  the  action 
of  presence,  where  a  certain  substance  pro- 
duces a  radical  change  in  others,  but  re- 
mains unaffected  itself.  Bradish  could  make 
everybody  else  laugh  and  take  a  cheerful 
view  of  life.  You  smiled  at  the  mere  sight 
of  him,  as  if  he  were  some  great  comedian. 
At  that  moment  his  financial  affairs  had 
reached  an  unprecedented  crisis,  and  he  re- 


288  A  MARSH  ISLAND. 

joiced  to  see  his  best  ally  at  hand,  though 
he  painted  busily,  and  apparently  paid  Dick 
no  further  attention  for  some  minutes. 

"  You  might  have  given  a  poor  beggar  a 
chance,"  he  asserted  presently.  "  I  have 
had  frightful  luck  all  summer." 

"That  sketch  does  n't  look  like  it,"  said 
Dick,  coming  nearer,  and  stepping  to  and 
fro  to  get  a  better  light.  "  That  's  better 
than  ever,  Bradish,  —  a  first-rate  blow-away 
sky.  What 's  going  on  ?  I  feel  like  a  her- 
mit dropped  down  into  the  middle  of  the 
theatre.  I  came  near  waiting  half  the  af- 
ternoon out  here  on  the  sidewalk,  to  let  the 
crowd  get  by." 

"  Welcome  home,  my  love,"  said  Bradish, 
in  a  delightful  tone  of  voice.  "  You  must 
give  away  those  clothes,  you  know." 

"Another  aunt  of  mine  frowned  upon 
them,"  responded  Dale  meditatively,  as  he 
went  sauntering  about  the  room.  "  But 
wait  until  I  show  you  my  sketches.  Ah, 
here  's  the  box  from  the  farm,  now !  When 
did  it  get  here  ?  You  would  have  just  lost 
your  head  completely.  It  really  was  a  love- 
ly old  place.  I  used  to  wish  for  you  with 
all  my  heart." 

"  I  thought  so." 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  289 

"OK,  never  mind  nonsense,"  and  Dick's 
voice  had  a  strange  eagerness.  Jim  Fales 
had  reckoned  on  the  perils  of  travel  when 
he  drove  the  nails,  and  the  comrades  worked 
together  diligently  to  loosen  them.  Dick  had 
not  anticipated  the  little  shock,  almost  like 
pain,  that  the  sight  of  his  pictures  would 
give  him.  Life  at  the  farm  seemed  already 
very  far  away.  Here  was  the  first  sketch  of 
the  birch-tree,  the  willows,  and  the  wide  out- 
look across  the  green  marshes.  It  was  odd 
that  this  should  have  come  uppermost,  and 
he  held  it  off  and  looked  at  it  without  a 
word,  while  Bradish  admired  the  pretty 
landscape  with  eager  friendliness. 

"  This  was  only  the  first,"  said  Dale.  "  I 
feel  like  Rip  Van  Winkle.  Look  them  over, 
if  you  like,  and  say  the  worst  you  can.  I  've 
had  a  good  solid  bit  of  life,  at  any  rate.  It 
was  a  good  thing  to  get  a  look  at  such  a 
permanent  institution  as  that  farm  and  its 
inhabitants.  I  felt  all  the  time  like  an  ac- 
cident, an  ephemeral  sort  of  existence ;  but 
I  believe  we  are  all  a  sort  of  two-stalked 
vegetable,  with  a  power  of  locomotion  that 
ought  not  to  be  too  severely  taxed." 

Bradish  groaned.  "  I  hoped  you  would 
forsake  your  philosophy,  when  I  found  you 


290  A   MARSH   ISLAND. 

had  really  taken  to  painting,"  he  said,  and 
gave  his  attention  to  the  contents  of  the  flat 
box.  "  You  rich  fellows  are  always  lucky," 
he  added  ruefully,  a  little  later,  after  his 
enthusiasm  had  cooled  enough  to  allow  his 
thoughts  to  express  themselves.  "  The  ava- 
rice of  you  in  keeping  such  a  mine  to  your- 
self was  despicable,  but  there  '11  be  a  con- 
vention of  us  there  next  summer.  Of  course 
you  even  fell  in  love  with  the  daughter  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick  slowly,  —  "  no.  But  I 
wish  I  had,  Bradish,  if  you  want  the  simple 
truth." 

"I  should  be  wishing  I  had  n't,"  an- 
swered Bradish,  with  great  gravity.  "  Cry 
a  little,  Dale ;  it  will  do  you  good." 

Yet  Dick,  who  was  always  ready  to  be 
amused  at  his  friend's  jokes,  did  not  even 
smile.  If  there  were  any  difference,  exist- 
ence was  a  more  serious  thing  now  he  was 
back  in  town  than  it  had  been  at  the  Sussex 
farm.  Whether  the  warmth  of  his  feeling 
for  Doris  Owen  was  equal  or  not  to  chang- 
ing the  iron  of  his  character  into  steel,  he 
was  dimly  conscious  that  for  each  revelation 
of  truth  or  beauty  Heaven  demands  tribute 
and  better  service  than  before.  He  had  at 
ieast  gained  a  new  respect  for  his  own  life 
aud  its  possible  value. 


A  MARSH  ISLAND.  Wl 

One  day  in  midwinter  Doris  went  away 
by  herself  for  a  long  walk  over  the  crusted 
snow.  She  climbed  the  hill,  and  looked  out 
across  the  marshes.  They  seemed  larger 
than  in  summer,  and  there  were  black  cracks 
in  the  ice,  like  scars.  She  wished  that  it 
were  spring  again,  and  thought  eagerly  of 
all  the  work  she  meant  to  do  ;  being,  indeed, 
happier  as  a  wife  than  she  had  ever  been  as 
a  maiden,  and  just  beginning  the  very  best 
of  her  days.  The  night  before,  a  shower 
of  rain  had  frozen  as  it  fell,  and  the  world 
was  all  sparkling  and  glistening,  as  if  it 
were  a  great  arctic  holiday.  The  sky  was 
a  clear,  dazzling  blue,  and  the  air  was  still 
and  cold.  Doris  Lester  thought  of  Mr. 
Dale,  and  with  a  quick  sympathy  imagined 
how  much  he  would  like  to  see  this  fan- 
tastic, ice-bound  country.  She  could  see 
through  and  through  his  feeling  for  her 
now,  but  she  knew  that  he  had  not  gone 
away  and  forgotten  her  ;  and  half  wistfully 
she  gave  a  glance  at  the  smaller  island 
where  she  had  found  him  asleep  on  the  Sun- 
day morning. 

Dan  and  her  father  had  gone  away  early 
in  the  day  to  visit  a  distant  piece  of  wood- 
land, and  just  as  she  reached  the  house  they 
drove  into  the  vard. 


292  A   MARSH  ISLAND. 

"  I  expected  you  ?d  have  to  go  out  to  see 
the  trees,  Doris,"  said  the  elder  man,  smiL 
ing.  "  Don't  they  look  handsome  ?  I  wished 
you  was  with  us  up  in  the  country  where 
there  's  more  growth  ;  but  I  declare,  it 's  as 
pretty  a  place  here  as  't  is  anywhere." 

"  I  tell  you  we  're  just  going  to  make  the 
old  farm  hum  next  summer,"  said  Lester,  as 
he  stepped  out  of  the  high-backed  sleigh ; 
but  his  companion  did  not  follow  him  at 
once.  "  I  've  got  a  New  York  paper  in  my 
pocket,"  Israel  Owen  told  the  little  audi- 
ence. "  Young  Mr.  Dale  sent  it  to  me,  and 
he  marked  a  place  that  tells  about  his  pic- 
tures being  exhibited  with  the  rest  of  the 
folks',  and  that  they  all  come  round  his  like 
a  swarm  of  bees.  There  's  a  long  piece 
about  'em." 

Mrs.  Owen  was  listening  eagerly.  "  Now, 
Doris !  "  she  said.  "  Don  't  you  wish  you 
was  there,  a-queenin'  it?"  But  Doris  and 
Dan  gave  each  other  a  happy  look  that  was 
answer  enough.  They  could  not  imagine 
anything  better  than  life  was  that  very  day 
on  their  own  Marsh  Island. 


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